The Hoody
by Kittineko
Summary: Rated PG13 for excessive violence, swearing, and one line of very very very suggestive innappropriateness. A parody on 'The Tuxedo' with my friends' alteregos as the characters. Some Slayers character incorporated. ^_^ Enjoy! P.S. It's really funny!


The Hoody  
  
Chapter 1 The city was noisy; the bright neon signs blared boldly at every shop. A car sped by; honking loudly at another car, swearing soon followed. In a chocolate factory, a smooth stream of molten chocolate flowed. Farther on, it joined a large tub of chocolate, workers in (hideous) bright green uniforms tended to the machines. A worker casually stuck his butt into the chocolate and added his own, rather chunky, brown plastic. The chocolate moved faster now, splitting into different pipes. Until it finally came out as a candy, wrapped around a peanut butter center, or formed into bars. The chocolate was in the Ben Bar Plant. The chocolate was wrapped in despicable orange and green striped aluminum foil. They moved slowly along the conveyer belt in a single line. The wrapper said 'Ben's Bars, Yummy Brown Stuff'. A disgusting picture of Ben smiling far too widely and looking at a chunk of turd-like chocolate further disgraced the wrapper. At the end of the line, a machine neatly packed the bars into bags, while another placed the bags into shipping boxes. More hideously dressed workers loaded the boxes onto trucks. Today, a group of businessmen were touring the factory. A worker lounged by a bridge, which was suspended over a huge tank of chocolate, making sure he wasn't watched he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. "This is Richard," he said, not bothering to whisper, "There's no one to talk to here! Oh, and I need Striker. Did you know there's a guy pooping into the chocolate?" Richard yammered, not noticing that the cell phone was still ringing 'In the End', "There's no bathroom here! All the workers shit into the chocolate! I actually like it. The chocolate massages your butt so nicely. But then you have chocolate on your butt the rest of the day. That's the only part that sucks. DON'T IGNORE ME!" he yelled, just realizing no one was listening, "I said I need Striker, NOW! And did you know that the chocolate tastes kind of like poop? Must be all the crap that they put in there. It's kinda good actually, and-" Suddenly, Richard was shoved into a large tub of melted chocolate. He thrashed wildly, calling for help. The only person nearby was his attacker, a tall guy with spiked brown hair and freckles. The chocolate closed over Richard's head, cutting out his final blabberings. The guy spoke into a walkie-talkie. "Janitors to the big tank of chocolate," he said, looking down at Richard's hands, which were waving frantically, "Some guy fell in." Then he threw back his head and laughed like his life depended on it. FINALLY! RICHARD STOPPED TALKING! AT LAST, PEACE AND QUIET! Chapter 2 Faloe Xion stood outside the Frick Art Gallery, primping. He thought he looked great, radiant with energy. Cute without being too adorable. He was wearing really baggy black pants with lots of chains and a clean black shirt that said 'Kiss me! I'm insane!' "'Sup," he said, "I'm Faloe Xion, and I was wondering if you'd wanna come eat lunch with me." "You're so cute!" squealed a woman's voice next to him. Spazz Ama, his best friend, a tall 100% German with two chunks of long brown bang dyed blonde and the rest in a ponytail. Very anime. She hugged him, and nearly choked him at the same time. "Bwah! Now I'm nervous again!" said Faloe "Jeez, she's just a salesgirl," Spazz shook her head. "She's pretty," protested Faloe, "And weird." "So tell her." "Yeah, that'll work out great," said Faloe sarcastically, "Hey! I'm Faloe Xion. I think you're a sexy weirdo. Will you come have lunch with me?" Spazz laughed at his impression. "On the other hand, don't tell her. She'd probably slap you." "Or smash the nearest distorted sculpture into my head." They both cracked up, tears gathering in their eyes. Finally, Faloe calmed down enough to slap on his spiked Atticus hat and walked into the gallery. The shop was full of strangely twisted metal sculptures and paintings depicting odd things. He noted the owner, a shrewd young man, was watching him like a cat watches a mouse. He wore a tag that said his name was John. On the other side of the shop, Carolynn, a pretty brunette was enthusiastically pointing out the beauty of one of the paintings to a rich couple. The painting was of an anime guy with purple hair in a page cut using a staff to stab a guy with green hair who had weirdly long and lumpy black arms. The green hair guy was screaming in agony. It was a pretty cool painting. The couple left rather quickly. Faloe stuck his hands deeper into his (bottomless) pockets, and walked over. "Uh." Why did he have to have a brain freeze now, WHY?! Luckily for him Carolynn said "Wait, I needa take some notes," she went over to her desk. Faloe occupied himself by looking at a painting. John walked over to him. "You don't come for the art, do you?" he asked. "The art's okay," Faloe replied, casually avoiding his question. "Let me give you some advice, stop loitering, go over and ask Carolynn out." "Okay then!" said Faloe, brightly. "No! You're not actually supposed to DO that!" said John. "Why not?" asked Faloe. "You're supposed to say 'Really?' and then I'm supposed to say 'Yes, so she can say no and you can go away' and you're supposed to walk away feeling hurt," he explained, "But since you actually took me seriously, you just ruined the whole effect." "Oh, okay, whatever," said Faloe. He walked over to Carolynn. "Um." A metal statue with large spikey things protruding from it caught his eye. He suddenly thought back to the conversation that he and Spazz had on the car, I think you're a sexy weirdo. Will you come have lunch with me? and he burst out laughing. "The exit's that way," said Caroylnn, pointing towards the door, "And there is an asylum at the corner of Rose and Larpenter." Faloe stumbled out the door, still laughing uproariously. Spazz stared at him. "How'd it go?" she asked, tentatively. "Hey! I'm Faloe Xion. I think you're a sexy weirdo. Will you come have lunch with me?" "YOU SAID THAT?!" "No, but I thought of it because I looked at this spikey metal statue next to her, and." Faloe started laughing all over again. "Oh my GOD Faloe!" gasped Spazz, between bouts of laughter, "Can you get any MORE stupid than THAT?!" They walked across the street to Faloe's cab/pimpmobile. "I'm getting a hot dog," she said, "You want one?" "Nah, not hungry." He got into his cab and gazed thoughtfully at Frick Art Gallery, then right on time, Carolynn emerged, presumably for lunch. It was now or never, thought Faloe. Actually more of now or tomorrow, he amended himself. All thoughts fixed on Carolynn; he didn't notice the short skateboarder when he opened the door. WHAM! The pierced and tattooed boarder landed on his butt in the street. "Sorry!" said Faloe, quickly; "You okay?" The little guy was on his feet instantly, sending a barrage of punches and kicks at Faloe, who blocked them. "What the fuck is up with you?!" snapped Faloe, uncomfortably aware of the growing crowd of onlookers. Among them was Carolynn and a young Asian woman with short, boyish hair. Unfortunately for the boarder, Spazz was there too. She grabbed her griddle, and got out of her cab. "STAY AWAY FROM MY FALOE DANGIT!" she yelled, whacking the guy so he bounced like a little blue ball and landed five feet away. "UN-FREAKING- CIVILIZED MORON!" "BRING IT ON BARBIE DOLL!" challenged the boarder, springing to his feet and holding his skateboard like a sword. Faloe faked a punch and kicked the board out of his hands while Spazz whacked him again. Faloe threw the board at him. "Amateur," he grinned. The boarder sulked and left, so did Carolynn. "See ya!" said Spazz, cheerfully, she climbed into her own cab and drove off. Faloe sighed. He'd have to try asking Carolynn again tomorrow. He got into his cab. "Could you get me to 300 Juu-ou Street?" asked a female voice, from the back. It startled him; he turned around and saw the Asian from the crowd of onlookers. "Yeah," he replied, "No problem." "You're Faloe Xion?" she asked, pronouncing Xion like Tsang. "Xion," he corrected her, pronouncing it Zion, "It's not Romanji. Who are you?" He started the engine and pulled out. The cab skillfully wove its way through the heavy traffic. "I'm Kitti, Kitti Neko," she said, "I was just wondering which name you use now. Because in Chicago you were Eric Wilson, before that you were David Johnson, Brian Erickson, Logan Davidson, Dan Amundson, Brandon Carlson." "You a cop?" asked Faloe. "Perhaps," Kitti replied, "So why do you drive so fast?" "More fares," he answered. "That's why you had your license suspended twelve times for speeding?" Faloe eyed her through the review mirror. "No crashes," Faloe pointed out. "Until now," said Kitti, coolly. Faloe looked down from the review mirror in time to see a guy throwing a dog across the street. He hit the brakes, narrowly missing hitting the dog as it landed on its feet in the middle of the street. "Know where I'm going?" asked Kitti. She took a manga out of her backpack. "300 Juu-ou Street." "Get me there before I finish reading Mars," she held up the manga, "And I'll double the meter." "You're on," smirked Faloe. She opened the dog-eared book and he stepped on the accelerator. The cab lurched forward; tires screeching like a dying cat. They slipped through traffic like a fish through water. They turned a sharp corner, almost hitting the pierced and tattooed boarder from before. Up ahead, a large mail van had had a mail van accident and letters were everywhere. To the left was a little gate with the words Wetland Delivery Co. Tel. 333- FROG. Faloe shrugged. Kitti was probably expecting him to call the number and tell the people he had a truck-full of packages. He wasn't stupid, well, not that stupid anyways. He rammed the gate open and soared through. "I have five pages. You have three and a half blocks. Good luck!" said Kitti from the back. She didn't look at all impressed with Faloe's skills, which was slightly irritating him. He punched the accelerator harder, weaving through the crowded streets as if his life depended on it. The roads in this area were particularly clogged up, slowing his progress. Kitti happily flipped another page. This wasn't good. An ambulance was coming up behind them. Faloe grinned. This was good! He switched lanes, then switched back to follow it. He got uncomfortably close, causing the ambulance to speed up. He got close again; the ambulance sped up again. He could almost hear the driver swearing at him. Kitti flipped yet another page. Only one page left! Next street was 300 Juu-ou. As Kitti reached the flip the last page, Faloe suddenly turned on the radio. Loud. Kitti dropped her manga as Faloe skidded to a perfect halt moments later. "We're here!" he announced, turning off the radio, "Beat you by one page." He hit the meter: $9.35. Kitti handed him a bill, which he pocketed. "You're good. The job is yours," she said. "I already have a job! Two of them!" he protested. He didn't mention one of them was illegal. "One of them is illegal," Kitti pointed out. "How did you know?!" "Two thousand a week, plus room and board," she handed him a card, "Be there tomorrow morning at seven o' clock." Then she slammed the door with surprising force and left. Faloe looked down at the card. David Metallium, 12 Slayers Road, Xellosia, N.Y. This was crap. He didn't even get up at TEN! How the heck was he going to be awake enough at SEVEN?! Chapter 3 The next morning Faloe was in Spazz's cab. Spazz had woken him up at six thirty and forced some mocha into him. Faloe was awake, actually, he was more than awake. He was hyper. "Okay! My plan is," he was saying, far too rapidly for Spazz to comprehend, "I work for this David Metallium for a couple years, save up some money, work for him for a few more years, save up more money, work some more, save more money, and then maybe think about what I'm going to do with all that dough. If I don't think of something I could always work some more and save more money. What do you think I could do with all that? Knowing me I'll probably get into some accident have to spend it all on hospital bills. Or maybe go to Shanghai and open a coffee shop." "Shanghai? Coffee shop? Whuh?" asked Spazz, who hadn't had any mocha. "Dunno, I don't even know Chinese. Okay, maybe I'll go to the South Pole and open a coffee shop. It will have coffee in it!" yammered Faloe "I do not understand your gibberish.speak.slower," muttered Spazz, "Besides, no one lives in the South Pole." "Polar bears do!" "No. That was the NORTH pole." "Oh," said Faloe, in a small voice. "I will sing the doom song now!" he declared. "Make it stop." "Doom doom doom doom doom doom doom doom." Spazz drove on for a while, ignoring Faloe's continuous 'singing'. Finally, she said, "I've heard about rich bored people. They hire and you, and then make you a slave." "Doom doom doom doom doom doom doom doom." "Money drives people crazy." "Doom doom doom doom doom doom doom doom." "I had rich guys in my cab, they were always in a hurry, and most of the time they were drunk too. Otherwise I don't think they would have been stupid enough to hire me." "Doom doom doom doom doom doom doom doomturnhere doom doomWOW!" They'd turned into a HUGE driveway that went uphill and ended in a HUGE mansion. Both of them were amazed. "Doom doom doom doom doom doom doom doom." said Faloe, not noticing the saddened look that had dawned on Spazz's face. "I'm gonna miss you," sniffed Spazz. Faloe stopped singing the doom song. "I'm gonna miss you too." Spazz sighed, "I needa hug." Faloe complied. "Call me," she said. Faloe nodded, then climbed out of the cab. He hoped Spazz wouldn't miss him too much. After she drove off, he walked up the stairs to the huge wooden front doors, singing the doom song. There were carvings of anime people on the doors. Two of them he recognized from the painting Carolynn had been showing to the rich couple at Frick Art Gallery. Before he could knock, the doors opened. A really tall butler with long blonde hair that reached his butt wearing a blue shirt and slacks, black shoulder guards, thigh guards, and chest guard, stood there. He looked like some roman warrior, complete with a sword. "Who are you?" he asked. "Faloe Xiondoom doom doom doom doom." said Faloe. "Cool! I'm Gourry Gabriev. Oh.what am I supposed to do.um.I KNOW Kitti told me something. Er.but then I started thinking about the jellyfishes. Oh well. Follow me, I'm sure I'll think of it later," said Gourry. Faloe stepped into the mansion, feeling very out of place. One of his many chains caught onto a sculpture. Unluckily, Gourry tried to catch it the same time he did, the result being the sculpture bounced out of both their hands and hit the floor with a resounding crash. "Doom doomsorry, my bad," said Faloe, "Doom doom doom doom." Gourry shrugged and started walking. Several minutes later, they ended up back at the entrance. "Dang! I wish Lina were here," he muttered, "She never gets lost." Finally, they ran into a blonde woman wearing a clay-stained smock. She showed them to an office. Kitti was sitting at the desk, drawing anime characters. Gourry left Faloe standing in the doorway, still singing the doom song. "Nice drawingdoom doom doom doom." Kitti smiled. She stood up and walked up to him, a blue folio under her arm. "I like Gir too," she said, "But now would be the time to shut up and listen." Faloe did. "Anyways!" said Kitti, looking pleased, "Sit." She pointed to a beanbag chair in the corner. Faloe sat. "Thinkfast!" said Kitti, gleefully throwing the folio at him. He caught them. "Good doggie! They're house rules," she explained, "Memorize them, especially number one, burn the papers, then forget them." Faloe opened the cover and read, "Never talk directly to Mr. David Metallium." "If you have questions, ask me, or David. Don't look for them in there," said Kitti. "You like working for this David guy?" he asked. "I don't work for him, I'm his cousin." She gathered up all her drawing crap, and strode out. Faloe decided to take a nap. He was snoring by the time another butler arrived. This time it was the green-haired guy from the painting. "I'll show-HEY! WAKE UP!" "FEED THE NAKED! Whuh? Oh." "I'll show you to your room," said the butler.  
  
Faloe's new room wasn't home, but it was great anyways. There was a huge boombox on a desk next to a pile of notebooks and sketchbooks. In another corner was a queen-sized bed with fluffy blankets. Faloe immediately tuned the boombox to 93X, and turned the volume way up. Then he threw his bag in a corner and went into the bathroom to take a bath. He emerged, feeling refreshed. The music suddenly stopped, there was static, then a beep and a female's voice said "David is leaving in ten minutes, bring the car around. If you're not on time I'll Dragonslave you into the next universe." Faloe opened the shades and looked down. Below him was a gleaming black limousine. Next he opened the closet and found it stuffed with black things. There were shirts, hoodys, pants, shoes, and gay-looking caps. There was NO WAY he was going to wear one of those gay-looking caps. "Don't forget the gay-looking cap," said the voice. Ten minutes later, Faloe had the limo in front of the mansion. The gay- looking cap kept falling off his head. Finally he took out his lighter and burned it in the ashtray. The female's voice came through the radio system. "There's a spare gay-looking cap under your seat." Faloe swore. The back door opened and closed. Faloe looked in the review mirror. David Metallium was a slender, sophisticated young man. He was dressed in a sharp looking long-sleeve and jeans. "I'm not a professional driver," said David, "But I do believe the reflective device into which you are looking was designed to allow the monitoring of rearward traffic, not passengers." Faloe grinned and stepped on the accelerator. The limo sped down the country roads and entered the highway, threading through traffic. In the back, David watched Slayers Try on TV and talked on a cell phone. "No, I did not order 3 shipments of Yugi-Oh. That was Richard, that moron, he always screws things up. I'm afraid you will have to ship them back. Yes, you can use his money. Yes, yes that will do, no, I don't want order anything else until I have something definitive." He pushed in the antenna. "He cultivates impatience in hopes someone will mistake it for intelligence," he said. "What do I do? Descend to the level of my superiors?" "Just 'cos you work for some guy doesn't mean he knows more than you-wait, um." Gods! If Kitti said he was supposed to memorize the rules, then forget them, did that mean he was supposed to obey them when he still remembered? Or did it mean that it didn't matter? Brake lights up ahead, Faloe veered across three lanes and took an 'Off' ramp. "You took Basil Road exit," said David. "It's better to go surface streets, 'cos traffic gets-wait, whoops. Sorry." "Kitti gave you a copy of the rules?" asked David. Faloe nodded. "Then did she tell you to memorize them and forget them?" Faloe nodded again. "Work on the forgetting part." Faloe hadn't predicted this. He glanced up at the review mirror. "By the way, if you take Gaav Boulevard, all the lights are timed." "Thanks," said Faloe. Chapter 4 Time flew by. Faloe drove, wore his gay-looking cap, and got paid. A month later, he found himself lounging in an insect shop, waiting for David to finish some business. He watched David, who was deep in conversation with a salesgirl. He seemed to be more interested in her than the merchandise. "I'm sure my contact in South Africa can find you're looking for," said the salesgirl. "In the meantime, I'll take this dragonfly." He held up the huge iridescent insect, impaled on a pin. He looked at her. "Extraordinary color," he said. The salesgirl returned his gaze. "Is your phone number on the file?" she asked. "I never can remember it exactly." "Some things need to be totally right to work at all." "I could go home and call you with it," said David, "Or, if you're free tonight, I'm having a small gathering. Shall I send a car?" "I drive myself." "Admirable," he replied. He pushed the pin, insect still attached, through one of his cards and handed it to her. "Eight o' clock? Did I mention it's a fund-raiser for the Anime art gallery?" "I'll chip in," she said. "Don't wear anything too stunning," he said, "or nobody will pay attention to the band." She laughed and glanced at the floor. Faloe knew that David had charmed her. Faloe carried David's stuff to the limo. "How did you get to be so smooth?" he asked. "You have great instinct. I see that when you drive," said David, "That girl in the art gallery is not beyond you, you know." "You know about her, too?" asked Faloe, shocked, "What do you people do? Stalk me?" "THAT is a secret!" David declared, looking quite pleased with himself, "Actually, wherever we're going, you manage to drive by there. All you need is some Windex." "It's a one-way window," said Faloe, "I'll never be a David Metallium." "I'm going to let you in on a little secret, something I rarely do, Faloe. I got a few good moves and some good hoodys. Other than that, I'm just the same as you." "How about the couple thousand million dollars?" asked Faloe. "It helps a bit, I admit, but I really believe ninety percent of it is the clothes." "And the other ten percent?" "The hoody gets you the date, the five percent is your wits, the other five percent is your secrets." "Hey, David, I have a big favor to ask," said Faloe. "Shoot." "Can I stop wearing this gay-looking cap?" David took the hideous thing off Faloe's head. "Better," he said, "much better." "Thanks," said Faloe, looking greatly relieved. He opened the door for David. "Thank you," said David. He climbed in, and Faloe shut the door. While Faloe was busy shoving the bags of purchase into the trunk, David pulled out his phone and speed-dialed a number. "Kitti! This driver you found, I think he's a keeper. He's gonna need a proper hoody. Expedite that for me, will you? That's nice.and Kitti? Lay off on the coffee." Faloe got into the driver seat. "Home, Ian," said David, cheerfully, using Faloe's birth name. Chapter 5 Ben Whartmann sat in his ship with a nerdy-looking scientist named Dr. Prettyman, who was screwing around on his laptop. "Why did you choose Regnis?" asked Prettyman. "He questioned my sanity projection," Whartmann replied, "And I don't like his face, it makes me sick." An elevator opened, on it, was Whartmann's shoe-licker, Regnis. He was an old guy with a scrunched up face, suggesting turd was under his nose, and who smiled way too often, causing his already hideous face to look all the more ugly. Next to him, was Jay, the guy who had rid the world of that blabbering machine Richard. "Hello Mr. Whartmann, I am honored to be invited on board," said Regnis, he sounded constipated. Ben rose from his seat and shook his hand. "Have you met Dr. Prettyman from the evil research department?" he asked. "Nope," said Regnis. "Well, now you have," said Ben. "Now, one of my spies told me that you don't share my optimism about our company's future." He held out a bar of chocolate. "Chocolate?" he offered. "Thank you," said Regnis. He took an enormous bite, and continued speaking, spewing chunks of chocolate as he did, "No, actually, I think that to meet your projections, every person on earth would have to eat only Ben's Bars." "Well, yeah," said Ben, who couldn't think of anything else intelligent to say. "I mean," continued Regnis, "We are talking about a specialty product-" "Specialty product?" Ben interrupted, "I'm sure you're familiar with Samantha's Hierarchy of Wants. What's the base? Chocolate and ice cream. Chocolate, my dear Regnis, is the most delicious thing ever invented." Regnis wasn't looking that well, well, not that well meaning he looked more constipated than usual. Prettyman leaned forward, interested in a booger that was coming out of Regnis's nose. Regnis took another enormous bite of chocolate. "Don't you find it incredible," said Ben, "That fermented cacao beans mixed with a few spices, can create something so addicting, so delicious, so essential? You eat it every day. Chocolate is a miracle. You think I'm crazy." "Well, actually yeah," said Regnis, looking more constipated than ever now. He shoved the rest of the bar into his mouth. "Need laxatives?" asked Prettyman. Ben smiled. "You're helping me out by being a guinea pig for a new product," he told his shoe-licker. "Oh.oh! What a brilliant idea," said Regnis, "Chocolate that makes you digest food really fast. What's in it? Diet medicine?" "There's not elegance to diet medicine," said Ben, looking quite snobbish. "Bacteria," said Prettyman, "Once you eat it, their DNA tells your cells to send all fibers to your large intestine, causing constipation, which builds up until you explode." He was grinning malevolently. "Huh!" Regnis said, trying to look interested, his face contorted with pain. "Very quick, and effective," said Prettyman. "As we speak," said Ben; "all your turd is building up inside of you." "Wow." said Regnis, it was the last thing he said. He exploded into a soggy mess moments later. "It's so beautiful, I almost feel like crying," said Prettyman, hugging himself gleefully. "Jay? Get the vacuum cleaner," Ben said. Jay reached into that secret area behind everyone's backs and produced a vacuum cleaner. He began to clean up Regnis. Chapter 6 Back at the mansion, David emerged from his room, dressed in baggy black jeans and a hoody. The strings were uneven. Faloe happened to be walking by. "Your strings are uneven," he said. David nodded and turned away, a second later he turned back and the strings were perfect. Faloe was impressed. David smiled and they continued on their separate ways. The party was awesome. In the ballroom the audience danced to Japanese rock being performed by Dir en Gray. David was not among them; he was in the terrace, dancing with the insect salesgirl. She looked stunning in a flowing gothic dress. Faloe watched from the inside. Amelia, one of the maids, approached David and the girl, carrying a tray of warmed sake. She tripped, nearly dropping the tray. In a flash David leaned back and caught the tray. The maid landed on her face, but sprung up immediately. Not a drop of sake was spilled. Amelia took the tray back, thanked him, and walked away. Faloe stared at the scene, blinking. David had moved so fast and smoothly that it seemed magical. His thoughts were soon grounded to reality as a beautiful woman in a skimpy black dress approached him, a glass of wine in her hand. "You hadda escape, too," she slurred. "Too hot in there," he replied. She laughed, Faloe wasn't sure why. "Is a full moon," she giggled. "No, really?" he said, sarcastically. She laughed again. "I'm Angelica," she said. "Faloe," he replied. "I haven't seen you before. You on the gallery council?" "No. I work for David Metallium." "Then you must know the way around, care for a stroll?" "Sure, why not?" She put her arm through his and they started down one of the paths. They hadn't gotten very far before Kitti's over-energetic voice came through the walkie-talkie. "FALOOOOOOOOOE! HIEEEEE!" she said, startling both Faloe and Angelica, "DAVID-CHAN WANTS YOU TO BRING THE LIMOOOOOOOOOO AROOOOOOOOUND!!!" Faloe clamped his hand over the walkie-talkie so that he wasn't deafened by it. "-AND DAAAAAAAAVID WANTS YOU TO GET RID OF THE FOREST GLEN AIR FRESHENER AND GET LAVENDERRRRRRR!!!" Kitti continued, "AND GET YOUR POOBUTTIN' HANDS OFF THE WALKIE-TALKIE!" "How did you know that?!" asked Faloe. "THAT IS A SECRET!" Click! Angelina looked at Faloe. "You're David's driver?" "Yeah," said Faloe. "I thought you were an actual person," she said, "I must be slipping. Sayonara." "Sayonara," said Faloe, sadly. "WHAT THE HECK DOES THAT MEAN?! FALOE IS TOO AN ACTUAL PERSON!" Kitti's voice came through the walkie-talkie, "FREAKING LADY! I'LL FIREBALL YOU INTO THE NEXT CITY! YOU LITTLE-" Faloe clamped his hand over the walkie- talkie again and walked off, blushing furiously. He heard an explosion behind him, he didn't bother turning around to see what was the matter. Chapter 7 The next day, he found himself carrying clean laundry to David's room. He passed a window and saw David outside. He was kneeling in the grass, photographing it. What a weirdo. He stopped at the doorway to David's study, Zelgadiss, one of the butlers, was sharpening one of the swords on a block of stone. Faloe suspected the swords were used for more than display, if they needed sharpening. "Why is David taking pictures of the grass?" he asked. "He has way too much time on his hands," explained Zelgadiss, "Too many interests.computer programming, anime, voodoo rituals, and now grass." "When does he work?" Faloe asked. Zelgadiss shrugged. Faloe sighed and turned to leave, but as he did so, one of his chains caught onto a little anime figurine, causing a domino effect along the whole row. Zelgadiss pointed to the door impatiently. David's room was just as impressive as David himself was. Faloe carried the laundry into the elaborate walk-in closet. There were built-in shoe racks, drawers, glass-fronted wardrobes filled with baggy black jeans, shirts, and hoodys. At the end of the closet, in a glass case, was the hoody David had worn the night before, with the baggy black pants folded up neatly on the bottom. Faloe hung the laundry on identical metal hangers. But he kept glancing at the hoody, wondering how something so simple could be so enticing. When he was done with the laundry he got a closer look at it. The seams that held it together were nearly invisible, so tiny and perfect. It seemed to glow, inviting him to open the case and take it out. He reached for the handle and pulled. They didn't yield. He pulled out the lock-picking kit Kitti had given him, in case he ever locked himself out of the limo. He selected a shorter, thin pick with a crooked end and inserted it. Just one flick upward and- "There is one rule," said David, who'd appeared behind him. Faloe pulled out the pick, slipped it back into the case, shut it, slipped that into his sleeve, and turned around smooth as a cat. "Never. Touch. My. Hoody," said David. Faloe shoved his hands into his pockets, dropping off the kit at the same time. "I didn't," he said, innocently. "Don't." And before Faloe could make his escape David said, "Faloe, would you like to join me for dinner tonight? We'll go out." That night, Faloe and David were in a car out to dinner. David sat in the back, doodling on a piece of paper. He was sketching a indistinguishable blob of something. "Let's turn here, get a bite," he said. Faloe turned obediently. David folded the sketch into a knot. "Cool!" said Faloe, delighted, "McDonald's!" He rolled down the window in front of the drive-by. "What'll you have?" asked David, "I'm buying." "Two cheeseburgers, small fries, and a large chocolate shake" Faloe said to the microphone thing. "Gyro with extra lettuce, and hot tea," said David. "Your order is ready," said the microphone thing. Faloe looked at David in the rearview mirror. "You are not what you seem, Mr. Metallium," he said. "I don't strike you as someone who would order gyro?" "Not at McDonald's." David smiled mysteriously. "Pull forward," he said. The limo pulled up to the window, and a girl handed Faloe a bag and his milkshake, then a neatly wrapped gyro and a paper teacup of tea. "Light snack," commented Faloe. "There's a rule I've learned to follow," said David, "Don't let anyone know too much. Always tell them everything is a secret. Preferably with my trademark 'THAT is a secret' or 'Sore wa himitsu desu.' You are right. I am not what I seem. I'm." "You're what?" asked Faloe. "A SECRET!" said David, looking quite pleased with himself. Faloe sweatdropped. "Whaaatever," he said. He ate his food. After he finished, he started up the limo and began getting out of the parking lot. In the back, David opened his gyro and took out a shiny envelope. Faloe looked at it through the rearview mirror. He didn't notice the skateboarder in front of the limo. David did, but didn't bother telling him. WHUMP! "What was that?" asked Faloe, looking back at the road. He didn't see anyone, so he kept on driving. Unnoticed by him, another boarder rolled behind the limo and stuck a package to the bumper. Then he stuck another package onto his board and rolled it after the accelerating limo. David looked through the rear window and saw the board-less skater. "Get us out of here!" he said, without offering further explanation. "What?" asked Faloe. "Step on it!" snapped David, uncharacteristically impatient. Faloe glanced at the side mirrors, and saw the skateboard following them. He stepped on it, hard. They threaded through traffic at top speed, followed by the persistent skateboard. A car changed lanes suddenly, forcing Faloe to take a hard left, into a dead end. The skateboard followed closely. "Out! Run!" shouted David. They bolted out of the car, Faloe took refuge behind some cardboard boxes while David dove behind some barrels. The skateboard rolled under the limo and exploded. A great ball of fire engulfed the limo, pieces of it flying everywhere. A second blow hit them moments later. After the aftershocks wore off, Faloe stood up. "What was that?!" he demanded, "David!!! You'd BETTER have an explanation for this! There wasn't ANYTHING about head explodys in my application! Uh.David?" David stood up behind the car. "Good thing I ducked," he said, woozily, then collapsed. Faloe ran to him and found him still holding the shiny envelope. There was a nasty cut across his temple. "You got 'ny as'rin?" slurred David, his eyes unfocused. "Uh.I'm sure Kitti has some," said Faloe, "God.I should have listened to her and carried stuff in secret pockets. Anyways, don't move, you'll be okay.I think." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911. "Nu police," said David, "No trust.anyone." "Never did," said Faloe, matter-of-factly, the operator came on. "Oh, I need an ambulance," he said. "Crig Ed," muttered David. "Crig?" asked Faloe, perplexed, "He did this?" "Criged-" "A man is badly hurt," Faloe told the operator, "His name-" David held out his wallet, opened to his identification, and bit it. The identification morphed before Faloe's eyes. The clothes turned into a suit, the address changed to 312 XelKitti way, Fanfikkies, Minnesota. "His name is Xellos ul Copt," said Faloe, fascinated by the high-tech ID card. "Get here fast." At the hospital a very out-of-it David was wheeled into an operating room, mumbling something about bouncy green insects. "I'll find Crig, I promise," said Faloe, reassuringly. "Please go to the friggin' waiting room," snapped a nearby nurse. Faloe glared at her until she hurried away. Then went into the waiting room. He sat, holding David's stuff. There was a watch, a weird rock necklace, fake vomit, lemon drops, half-burnt Yugi-Oh! cards, a lighter, lip balm, instant coffee mix, aspirin (why did he ask ME for aspirin when HE had some, Faloe thought to himself), napalm, pocketknife, letter opener, Altoids, change, gushers, rock with the word 'Staff' engraved into it, an anime figurine of a purple-haired guy in black priest's robes, a pop-up Xellos shrine, and the shiny envelope. Faloe turned the envelope in his hands. He held it up to the light. He shook it. Then he took the letter opener and opened it. It exploded in a puff of lavender-scented smoke. The lady sitting next to him glared at him. "There's no smoking in here," snapped a passing nurse. "How is he?" asked Faloe. "It's touch and go. He'll be in here for a while, you might want to bring some familiar items, anything to make him feel more comfortable when he regains consciousness." "I'll try," said Faloe. "Oh, he had this clutched in his hand. I don't know if it means anything." The nurse handed him a knot of paper. He unfolded it and found the indistinguishable blob David had been sketching. It had weird looking legs and wings sticking out kind of crooked. Whatever it was, it didn't mean much. Chapter 8 Four people in an underground lab were walking down a corridor. There was Striker, a gangster; his two operatives Nate and Dew; and Kitti, who was acting hyper and pscyho, as usual. "It's a shame David couldn't fit us into his busy schedule," muttered Striker. "I left messages," said Nate. "Why?" asked Striker, "He doesn't pick them up." "He probably took off for Sairaag," said Dew, gloomily. "As long as he doesn't go black hoody," said Striker, looking displeased. "He saves that for vewy vewy vewy veeeewy special occasions," said Kitti. "Like what?" asked Striker. "Sore wa himitsu desu!" declared Kitti, happily. They were in an autopsy room. Mike, a forensic analyst, wheeled out a dead body on a metal table. On it, was Richard, the idiot who never knew when to shut up. "Hey Striker," said Mike, by way of greeting. "What do you know?" asked Striker, impatiently. "He fell into a tub of chocolate," said Mike. There was another forensic analyst in the background, cleaning beakers. She was short with fluffy, wavyish brown hair and glasses. "A contusion on this big swollen thing he calls a head," said Mike, "means he probably hit it and was knocked unconscious, though I have no idea how anything short of a sledgehammer could get through that thick skull of his, and fell into a tub of chocolate." Dew shook his head, "That guy was such a moron. It's a good thing he died. He couldn't even walk and chew gum at the same time without falling and getting scraped. No surprise he died so stupidly." "Well, better him than me!" said Striker, optimistic for a change, or maybe he was just being morbid. "Cover the stupid moron up. His face makes me sick." "He didn't fall," said the other forensic analyst. Despite her petite stature, she was really curvy. Actually, she was a lot prettier than most other forensic analysts were, the ones Striker knew anyways. "He was murdered. Does that make life suck a little less?" Striker turned around to face her. "Who are you?" "That's Sammichan Murasaki," said Mike, before she could speak, "She doesn't know when to keep her trap shut." Striker ignored this last comment. "You don't think he tripped." Mike glared at her, trying to voodoo curse her into shutting up. She ignored him. "Well, there was a bruise on his back, indicating that he was pushed," she explained. "Pushed?" Striker repeated. "And he didn't fall into just any tub of chocolate," Sammichan continued, "My analyze indicated that this chocolate contained traces of human waste, but what was really weird was the strain of bacteria I haven't yet been able to culture." She went back to washing beakers. "You seem to know a lot about chocolate," he said, "I have a special situation in the field that could use your talents. Interested?" "When do I start?" she asked. "Ever heard of David Metallium?" asked Striker. "Here and there," she replied. "Meet me upstairs in an hour." Striker left, followed by Kitti, Dew, and Nate. Mike glared at Sammichan. "You don't let anything get in the way of your ambition, do you, Murasaki?" he asked. "I didn't sign up with the CSA to wash beakers and go home smelling like crap," she retorted, "What kind of life is that?" "Mine," he said, bitterly, "I don't think we'll be having dinner tonight." "Why? Feeling ill?" asked Sammichan, sweetly. "You made me look like a complete idiot in front of my boss!" snapped Mike. "You're a nice guy, Mike, but you rushed the autopsy." "Thanks," he said, "I'm glad you're taking that field job. People can shoot at you." "Well, if they're as incompetent as you are, I won't have to worry about a thing." Chapter 9 Meanwhile, Faloe was rummaging around David Metallium's bedroom. He was taking some stuff to his boss in the hospital. He spotted an address book among the things he'd thrown out of a drawer. He opened it and flipped to the 'E' section. "Eacon, Eeikoku.no Ed." He closed the book and tossed it onto the floor, where just about everything else was. He walked into the closet. There, he got some pajamas, and a fluffy purple robe. The hoody caught his eye again. It hung in its glass case, all alone with it now, Faloe was not afraid to pick the lock. But something made him glance at the watch. It was glowing. Funny, he thought, it wasn't glowing a minute ago. He poked one of the buttons, then the other one. Nothing happened. He poked both of the buttons at the same time. Something happened. The glass rose like a curtain, revealing the hoody. A minute later, Faloe was wearing the hoody and pants. He admired himself in the mirror. It fit very nicely, hanging loosely, but comfortably. He looked at the watch again, not sure why. On it were two tiny words that weren't there before. Off On He poked one of the buttons. The on button blinked. He poked the other button. Shloop! It was like the hoody had a mind of its own. It immediately straightened. Every line was perfect. Every string and chain was untangled. He lifted the bottom of the hoody to check out the lining. It looked like a pattern. Faloe bent over to get a better look. The lining was a circuit board. A label from the hoody pocket in front read: Crazy Hoody Experiment, CSA req. No. 508-5434-2843, property of Gang. The watch was now displaying words whizzing past too fast for him to read. He poked it, and a new list appeared, one that didn't move so fast. He scrolled down. "Chess, Poking, Kendo, Magic, Kung Fu.cool!" he exclaimed. A sub-menu was beneath it: Attack, Defend, and Demolition. "Demolition! Coolies, okay, show me." He pushed the execute button. He found himself hurtling across the room to flying-kick the huge TV. He reduced a display of crystal to sparkly rubble in seconds, at the cost of numerous cuts to his hands. CD's were flung like ninja stars, priceless paintings were ripped, and the bed was demolished in minutes. "Oops! Cool.wow! Awesome! Yeesh," he yelled, as he was handspringed and somersaulted across the room, leaving desolation in his wake. It was all cool and stuff, but his hands were really starting to kill him. He wrestled with the hoody, managing to pull one arm out of it and pushed stop.or so he thought. Unfortunately, it read spider. He found himself scuttling up the wall and onto the ceiling. All the blood rushed to his head as he surveyed the damage. Gourry's voice came over the intercom. "Mr. Metallium? Is everything okay over there?" he asked. "Hi! It's Faloe!" said Faloe, sounding maniacally happy, "He asked me to ask you if tomorrow you could spend a few minutes cleaning up his room. It...uh.got kinda messy." "Sure," said Gourry, sounding just as cheerful. "Thanks!" Now what?! 'In the End' began playing from a cell phone. It was from either the hoody or the pants. He reached down to search the numerous pockets. In the process, he lifted both his hands from the ceiling, meaning he fell to the floor with a resounding WHUMP! A slim cell phone tumbled out, still ringing. To answer, or not to answer, he pondered, what the heck! He pushed the talk button. "Hello?" he said, trying not to moan. He'd landed flat on his back; that really hurt. "Are we on?" It was a woman. "Pot?" he asked, bewildered. "What's the password?" she asked. It was a girl in her late teens. It didn't sound like the insect salesgirl. "What?" "I think I have the wrong number." "You are calling David Metallium," said Faloe, in a pinched voice, not really knowing what he should do, his back was really killing him now. In her office, Sammichan had a folder open in front of her. "You okay over there?" she asked, concerned. "Yeah, great," lied Faloe. "Okay, David, the password is 'You have a nice rack,' remember?" "How the heck am I supposed to know whether or not you have nice boobs?" he asked. "Whatever," she said, "You're the senior officer, David. I'll just go with whatever you say," she sighed. A light bulb went off in Faloe's head. She thought he was David! Interesting. "If we can get down to business, sir," she said, impatiently, "Ben Whartmann is having a meeting with chocolate factory owners on his boat. Striker wants surveillance." "What about Crig Ed?" asked Faloe, thinking this had something to do with the exploding limo. "Who?" "Uh, never mind," he stammered. "Whatever, going on," said Sammichan, "Now, we'll meet tonight, eight o' clock at Pier 17 at the base of the silo," she read from the file. "Eight o' clock," repeated Faloe. "Haha. Very funny," said Sammichan, sarcastically, "Listen, Mr. Metallium, FYI this is my first time in the field. I don't expect to be coddled but I'm sure you can remember your first assignment." "Yeah, I know how you feel," said Faloe, honestly. "Ja, mata." She hung up. Chapter 10 8:03 P.M. Faloe had taken one of David Metallium's numerous cars. As he drove up to the silo, he saw Sammichan Murasaki illuminated in the headlights. He checked himself; everything was zipped, buttoned, hooked, and hidden. She was walking towards the car, he got out. Sammichan stopped, Faloe formed a very impressive figure. "We got five minutes to get into position," she said, really fast. All that mocha she'd had beforehand was going to her head, "I got the rooftop ready, and the equipment. Man, I gotta say, it's a great honor to work with the legendary-" She stopped yammering when she saw his face, "David Metallium?" She blinked, confused, "Uh.I'm Sammichan Murasaki. You can call me Sammi." "Have we met before?" asked Faloe, slightly worried. "Nope!" "Great!" he said, and he meant it. "'Kay, Sammichan. Let's just do it and get it over with." He didn't want to miss Invaders Zim. "I'll follow you." "Ladies first," he insisted. She sighed and started walking up the silo stairs. Faloe sighed in relief. "A couple details changed from what was in the file," she said. Faloe looked lost. "You read it, right?" she asked. "Screw files," said Faloe, "Gimme the short version." "Ben Whartmann's holding a meeting with nine international chocolate company CEO's," she explained, "We've been tracking him for six years. A couple weeks ago, the idiot in charge of the operation was found. He had exploded of constipation." "Awesome!" exclaimed Faloe, "I didn't know you could do that! So he'd dead now, right?" "Duh," said Sammi, "Anyways, so now you're the man. Striker wants to know what's going on at this meeting." She opened an attaché case, revealing binoculars, headphones, and a listening receiver. She handed him the case. He opened it. Inside was a disassembled sniper rifle. "Klineholtz silenced bot-action 9-mm, titanium folding stock with 20x infrared sniper scope and counterweighted micro-rifled barrel," she informed him. "Fun!" said Faloe. "Do I get to kill people?" he asked, eagerly. "Uh.no," said Sammi, "you're planting a bug." Faloe sighed in disappointment. "Scan the area, will you?" he asked. While Sammichan did so, he put the sniper together. A few moments later, he was holding the completed weapon. "All ready!" he said, cheerfully. He joined her at the edge. "Aim for the briefcase," she said, as if he were the rookie and she the professional. Faloe gave her an I-know-what-I'm-doing look and aimed. A strong gust of wind came through just as he pulled the trigger. The bug stuck under a guard's nose, looking like a booger. "Hm." said Faloe, "Too much wind, turn around." Sammichan started to, then paused. "Hey, wait a minute," she said, "Let's get this clear, I may be the rookie, and you're the pro, but I'm not gonna go along blindly like some baka." "Yare yare yare," said Faloe, "Now turn around. "Kitti told me how your operate," she continued. "How nice of her, she was probably told you about the invisible pink monkeys on the ceiling too," he said, sarcastically. "P'sha," she snapped, "Let's just keep this professional." "I am!" protested Faloe, "I need a tripod." Sammichan's eyes lit up with understanding, "Oh! You mean like this?" she turned around and got down on one knee. "No, you're too short that way!" Sammichan whipped around and punched him. "You're so mean!" she said, "Picking on short people!" "Just turn around," said Faloe, rubbing his new bruise. Sammichan punched him again for good measure before turning around. He put the sniper on her shoulder and looked through the aiming piece. Coolly, he aimed at the briefcase, and fired. It bounced off a latch and landed in the hair of one of the executives. He grinned. Faloe thought the job was over, but it wasn't. Sammichan was listening intently to whatever was coming out of the headphones.  
  
Nine executives, all owners of big famous international chocolate companies were gathered in the ship's hold. The lights dimmed, more than they already were anyways. Whartmann was too stupid to maintain his ship correctly. Video screens rose and filled with images of cacao beans being gathered, fermented, crushed, and made into smooth streams of chocolate. Ben got a dreamy look in his eyes, and drooled all over the floor. The executives stared; he quickly wiped his mouth and said, dramatically, "Chocolatte, shokora, Zhiao kuh li, -insert chocolate in many languages here- Chocolate." The images changed, showing Ben's Bars in their hideous striped wrappers, then children, women, old people, dogs, all eating chocolate. "Dogs can't eat chocolate," said one of the executives, "It's poisonous to them." Ben ignored him. "In the year 2003," he said, "Tons of chocolate is eaten every day. It is cheap and yummy. I like chocolate." The executives all gave him you-are-being-stupid looks, but applauded politely. The images changed again, showing rainforests being chopped up, cacao trees being sliced and diced, and cacao bean harvesters leaving for bigger cities. "But very soon," continued Ben, tragically, "rainforest chopping, overpopulation, and better jobs will coniminate, er.conatimate your sources." This caught the attention of his audience. They looked shocked and angry. "That is why I brought you here, to save you," he said.  
  
On the deck, Jay, the thug, and Brian, another thug, were standing guard. Jay glanced up and saw Faloe and Sammichan on the silo. He tapped Brian on the shoulder. "Pigeons," he told him. "Cool," said Brian. "That means there's people up there," said Jay. "So?" asked Brian, stupidly. "We're supposed to be guarding Whartmann," said Jay. "We are," said Brian. "The people up there aren't supposed to be there," said Jay. "So?" asked Brian, again. "They're spies!" said Jay. "Oh!" said Brian, he paused for a second, thinking. "You mean the spying kind?" Jay fell over anime style. "WHAT DO YOU THINK?!" he roared. "Yeah.uh, wait, no.um.yeah-no! Wait! That isn't my final answer! Er." "THEY ARE SPIES AND WE ARE SUPPOSED TO GET RID OF THEM!" Jay was screaming now, mostly in exasperation at his incredibly stupid partner. "I knew that," muttered Brian. Jay was breathing hard, his face very red, as they got onto Whartmann's ship.  
  
"What was that all about?" asked Faloe. "Shut up, I'm listening here!" snapped Samantha. "'Kay then."  
  
"I've invested millions," Ben was saying, "to make an extra addictive chocolate that will make the government give me money to stop rainforest chopping.or something like that.hm.anyways! I want to share my lovely creation with you!" Jay and Brian appeared beside him and started waving madly. He was on a roll and didn't want to stop, but when they started doing the cha-cha he decided it was time for a break. "Uh.digest this info for a moment," he said. He walked over to them. "What's up?" he asked. "The pigeons!" said Brian. "What?!" asked Whartmann, "Where are they? How many?" "Uh.I think they would be gray, and little, yeah!" said Brian, stupidly. "YOU INTERRUPT ME BECAUSE OF PIGEONS?!" screamed Whartmann. The executives stared at him, but he ignored them. "No, you idiot! The pigeons!" said Jay. "Don't call me an idiot!" snapped Whartmann. "I wasn't calling you an idiot I'm calling him and idiot," Jay pointed to Brian. "I'm not an idiot!" said Brian, offended. "Yes, you are," said Jay. "How am I an idiot?" asked Brian. Jay did his impression of Brian, "Duh.what spies? The spying ones?" "SPIES?!" asked Whartmann, alarmed. The executives decided they would ignore him too. "Pigeons!" insisted Brian. "Pigeon spies?" asked Whartmann, confused. "We need to think of a better code," said Jay. "You mean pigeons with little cameras on them?" asked Brian. "No!" snapped Jay, getting really irritated, "Two pigeons, on the silo," he said, making it as plain as possible. "Take care of them!" declared Whartmann. "We'll need birdseed," said Brian, looking pleased with himself, but completely missing the point. "NO!" screamed Jay and Whartmann in unison. "But he told us to take care of the pigeons!" said Brian. "Pigeons is the code for SPIES! 'Take care of them' means KILL THEM!" explained Jay, exasperated. "We have to kill the pigeons?" asked Brian. "YES!" said Jay, then paused, "NO! I MEAN NO! WE KILL THE SPIES, NOT THE PIGEONS!" "But aren't they the same thing?" "NO!" another pause, "I MEAN YES! WE KILL THE SPIES, WHO WE CALL PIGEONS BECAUSE IT IS A CODE! Um.wait.GARRR!!! STOP CONFUSING ME!" "I'm not!" said Brian. "Just.go.now," said Whartmann, pointing at the door. They left.  
  
Up on the silo roof, Sammi was holding the headphones half a foot away from her head, so Jay and Ben didn't deafen her with their screaming. "What the heck are they saying?" asked Faloe. "Something about killing pigeons," she replied. "What?" Before they could ponder this matter any longer, a climbing rope was thrown up, over Faloe's head from behind. In an instant, he was knocked off his feet and two of Ben's men were upon him. He hit his head on the ground really hard, causing blotchy black spots to dance before his eyes. Everything was moving too fast. Faloe tried to block the blows coming his way while simultaneously groping for Kitti's aspirin. It was futile, every time he came close to getting the aspirin, his hand was inexplicably pulled away. It was really pissing him off. "I think we should get going," he said, "I'm gonna have a major migraine coming here." Sammichan wasn't listening. She was busy holding the sniper like a sword, ready to combat the oncoming six thugs from Whartmann's boat. Faloe sighed. This wasn't going to work out. He pulled one of his spikey bracelets off and swung it wildly. It left three very long and bloody slits on one of the guy's face. He popped two of Kitti's mysterious aspirin. The effect was instantaneous. His head cleared and the black spots danced away, along with the throbbing headache. He tackled the first of the newly arrived group of thugs. They tumbled past Sammichan, who whacked him with the rifle. Another guy grabbed the sniper and tossed it off the silo while yet another put her in a headlock. She elbowed him the stomach and groin, hard, really hard. He fell back, unconscious. Yet another guy put her in another headlock and started swinging her around. Faloe was having problems of his own, trying to fight the all the other bad guys simultaneously. Sammichan bit her bad guy on the arm, he screamed in pain and threw her into the ground. Faloe ran over to help her and was knocked into a bunch of pipes. Somehow, a domino effect knocked out Faloe's new bad guy but sent him hurtling towards the railing. He bounced off it and stepped onto someone's hand. He was thrown up into the air. He grabbed the rail with one hand, trying desperately to get the watch into Spider mode. A thug removed his hand, he grabbed the rail below it. The thug kicked his hand off. He grabbed the last rail. He couldn't push the execute button! He tried biting the watch. Sammichan came behind Faloe's bad guy knocked him out with some nicely placed kicks. She grabbed at his hand, but he slipped over the edge. "I hope this works," he prayed silently, he pressed the execute button on his way down to the very solid concrete. Immediately, a stream of gooey web shot out of his butt and latched onto the side of the building. "Couldn't they put the web stuff on the wrists, like in Spiderman?!" he yelled at no one in particular, dangling very indignantly by his ass. He turned around and started climbing up. The web stuff was absorbed back into his butt. Sammi, meanwhile, had beaten up the remaining bad guys and was on her way down to see if Faloe was okay. They didn't see each other in the dark. When Faloe got to the top, he was greeted by the painful moans of the knocked-out thugs. A new group of them were coming across the catwalk. There was no way he was making it to the ladder in time. So what! He whipped out a nifty grenade and blew up the catwalk. That was the upside. The downside was the force of the explosion knocked him off the silo, this time, he landed in a cement truck.  
  
Meanwhile, Whartmann's meeting was still going on. "Uh.yeah, I think that's all," he said, "And I'd, um, like to hear from you." "How much will your scheme cost?" asked one of the CEO's, a man named Rollum. "Not a penny out of your pocket," he assured them, "All I want is to become more than a partner." Rollum stood up and walked towards the door. "My family has been in business for 70 years," he said, "You're going to tell me and my dad how to get chocolate?! Dream on, Whartmann, you idiot." "That's not very nice!" protested Whartmann. Rollum slammed the door. Outside, he walked towards the line of limos, muttering angrily under his breath. "Get my car," he said to one of Ben's thugs, a guy named Andrew. "Your driver said he'd be back after the meeting," he lied, "Don't worry, I'll get you a ride." He motioned for a limo and Rollum got into the backseat. "Have a nice trip!" he said, cheerfully.  
  
Faloe was perched on the edge waving crazily to try to get Samantha's attention. She was still climbing down the ladder. A chunk of catwalk fell down and hit him on the head, knocking him back into the cement truck. Samantha jumped the last few rungs, ran to Faloe's car, and left in a screech of tire. Faloe climbed out of the truck, looking like some kind of living statue. The hoody shook itself clean like a dog. Sammichan pulled up a minute later and opened the passenger door wordlessly. Faloe climbed in. As they sped off, clouds of cement dust flew from Faloe's head. When they got to the parking lot, Sammichan got out and slammed the door with surprising force. "What are you so pissed about?" asked Faloe. "Why would I be pissed off?" asked Sammichan, sarcastically, "I've always wanted to begin and end my career with a huge failure. Thanks a LOT, Mr. Metallium." Faloe followed her toward her car, "I save your butt," he protested. "P'sha, and pigs fly," she snapped. "There were a whole bunch of guys trying to kill us.or am I wrong about that, too?" "'Scuse me if I sound hypercritical," ranted Sammichan, "I know you got this bad-ass reputation you gotta keep up, but we MIGHT have done better if you'd gone a bit more by the book, scratch that, if you even READ the book. I have worked SO fuREAKING hard for this opportunity, and you RUINED it!" She was screaming now, "I land a job with the famous David Metallium and he turns out to be some kinda freaking AMATEUR! Gods! Either that or you gotta stop taking whatever you're on. Do you just HATE newbies or something?! Thanks a BUNCH for SCREWING UP my ONLY opportunity for getting out of that STUPID lab." "Hey! It's my first time!" said Faloe, he realized his mistake a nanosecond later, "I mean, every time is like the first time." Sammichan sighed, so maybe she'd been a bit harsh. Faloe could see she was softening up. "It's not easy being David Metallium," he said, sadly. He turned to go back to his car. Sammichan felt bad. She reached out to touch his shoulder. Years of experience made Faloe whirl around and started a throw. Sammichan started counterthrow, which was countered again, they both ended up on the floor. "What the heck was that for?!" asked Sammichan and Faloe in unison. "Sorry, I'm a bit overamped," said Faloe, hurriedly. "'Kay, let's call it a day," sighed Sammichan, getting to her feet painfully. "Get some chocolate, electric blanket, anime DVDs, and pain medication." "Hm.sounds yummy," commented Faloe. Sammichan shot him a queer look. "We'll be in touch," she said. A minute later she drove off in a cloud off dust.  
  
In the backset of the limo, Rollum tried making a call to his girlfriend. The screen read no service. He sighed and took out some Ben's Bars from one of the cabinets. They tasted oddly like poop. The driver, Brian, noted his passenger's uncomfortable expression and rolled up the privacy glass. He then began to press the buttons on the dashboard furiously. "Which one is it?!" he asked, to no one in particular. A big red button on his right-hand side read Chocolate Drown. "WHERE WHERE WHERE?!" He smashed the dashboard with his hands, missing only the big red button. "GAAAAAR!!! Um.cheesy squiggles, watermelon seed shooter, garbage can, waterproof! Okay.press that and.um.where's the chocolate drown button?! GAAAAAAAR!!!" A few minutes later he accidentally pressed the big red button with his head, which he had been smashing furiously against the stubborn dashboard. "Ow," he said, "Hey! I think I did something right! Cool! Now if only I could do it again." In the back of the limo, molten chocolate gushed out of little refrigerator, rising slowly but steadily. No one heard Rollum's last cries of panic.  
  
Back on the ship, Whartmann was saying good-bye to the executives. "Call me if you have any comments or questions," he said, remembering that he had read it on the side of a ketchup bottle that morning, "Only organic tomatoes used! 20% less fat than the leading brand of ketchup!" The executives stared at him. "Um.I mean.have a nice life!" Jay and a few of his thugs approached Ben, all of them looking beaten and blown (up). Jay was carrying Sammichan and Faloe's sniper case and listening stuff, or what was left of them. Faloe's grenade had been pretty powerful. Whartmann looked at them. "What the heck happened to that?" he asked, pointing as the twisted remains of Sammichan's headphones. "I can track them," said Jay, in a business-like tone, "They'll be dead by dinnertime, wait, it's already 8:30, they probably already ate dinner! Okay, they'll be dead before midnight snacktime." "Oh, okay," said Ben. "But not until we know what they know," added Jay, grimly.  
  
Chapter 11 Kitti and Sammichan were having a blast at the Gang shooting range. Kitti was aiming the steel barrel of her nine-millimeter Beretta at a human- shaped target. She racked the slide, chambered the cartridge, and fired. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM! The gun flashed with each explosion. Kitti lowered the gun and looked at the target. Pretty good, she thought. She and Sammichan were the only ones out on the range. Two guys in jackets watched them from inside, on the monitors. They were contemplating whether to go out and flirt. "You know, I have no idea what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it," Sammichan was saying, "They just give you the freaking assignment and say 'Here! Have a blast!' They don't even tell you what the heck is going ON!" "Yeah, I know," agreed Kitti, "But then I started working with David." She reloaded the gun and handed it to Sammichan. "He didn't help at all. Everything was 'a secret'. So I ended up hacking into the files and reading what was going on." Sammichan blasted a few new holes in the target. "Everyone told me he was unorthodox," she said, "But no one told me he was a psycho homicidal kamikaze freak!" Kitti took out a bigger gun, a MAC 10 .45-caliber full auto. She blew huge holes in the head and chest of another target, causing the guys watching them on the monitor to shrink back. "He's pissing you off, isn't he," she said, "He never pissed me off before. Except for that one time we were playing hide-and-seek at his house, but we were, what, four?" She laughed. She blew away the target's groin. That's when the two guys decided they wanted to go get some FizWiz and video games more than they wanted to flirt with two psycho homicidal freaks. "Don't you love his hair?" asked Sammichan. "It's a little shorter than it used to be," said Kitti. "I think it's sexy." Kitti glanced around, making sure they were alone. She handed Sammichan a shiny envelope. "Another assignment?!" screeched Sammichan. Kitti nodded happily. "Have fun! He can teach you a lot, if you pay attention, and if he feels like it." "He almost got us KILLED!" she screamed. "It was probably on purpose," said Kitti, lightly. Sammichan smiled, "It was great though, I mean, we kicked some serious butt! What a rush!" Kitti grinned and pulled out an even bigger gun. It was a full auto AK-47. "God, I wish I were on the field," she said wistfully, "I'm pretty sure I can poke Striker into letting have a few more jobs." She fired, ripping the poor abused target into pieces.  
  
Chapter 12 A sports car was parked outside a low-rent apartment complex. Kids clustered around it, peering in through the windows. Faloe was in Spazz's apartment, which they had formerly shared. It was basically one large room, and it was a total mess. "While you're living large, I'm drawing eighteen hours a day, just to pay rent," Spazz complained, "I think my hand is gonna fall off from exhaustion." "Get another roomy," said Faloe. "Who'd wanna live here?" asked Spazz, looking around at the empty beer bottles, dirty laundry, brushes, and paints that lay everywhere. "Clean it up." "It's been your month to clean up." "Hey, did your friend find anything about Crig Ed?" asked Faloe. "Lemme see," said Spazz, plopping down at her very messy desk and riffling through the stacks of drawings. Faloe screwed around with the watch. "Striker looked through every freaking company you could think of, gods, that dude is great at hacking. Doesn't have any trouble with breaking laws either. Here it is!" She took out a wrinkled sheet of paper and turned around, oblivious to the fact the entire room was at clean as a pin. "Looks like your Crig Ed-" She looked up, and her jaw dropped. Faloe casually dropped an empty beer can into the trash. "Dang! You're good!" she commented. "Going on," said Faloe, impatiently. "Okay, your guy doesn't exist. Nothing on him, her, whatever." "I have to find him," said Faloe, "I told David I would." Faloe's cell phone rang, Faloe and Spazz both jumped three feet into the air. He quickly pulled it out and held it up to his ear. "What?!" he asked, irritated. "Guess who's dead?" said Sammichan. "My mother's lawyer's dog," said Faloe. Sammichan was calling from the Gang HQ. Mike was hanging around her desk, trying to irritate her into punching him. "Uh.no," said Sammichan, "Frank Rollum, he was at Ben's meeting. What do you think?" "You tell me," said Faloe. "Rollum didn't go for Ben's scheme," said Sammichan, "So he killed him." She was getting really irritated now, trying to avoid Mike, who was flapping a piece of paper with smiley faces on it in her face. "Not bad, you got something right," said Faloe, "What's the next move?" Sammichan pulled an inflatable mace from under her desk and waved it menacingly. Mike held up a sheet of paper that read 'Punch me!' "After the fiasco with the bug," Sammichan said to Faloe, pointedly ignoring Mike, "I'd say we have no-HEY!! WHAT THE F--- WAS THAT FOR?! YOU LITTLE! CALL ME SHORT NOW WILL YOU!!! HEEHEEHEE." Faloe heard Sammichan slamming the poor cell phone onto her desk, and swearing soon followed. He was holding the phone six inches from his head so he wasn't deafened by it. After the screams and swearing finally died down, the cell phone was picked up again. "As I was saying." said Sammichan, Mike was in the corner, bruised and bloody, and not about to annoy her anytime soon, "We're going on level-one surveillance." "In other words." "Infiltration," said Sammichan, "Ben's going to be at the Big Shiny Nightclub tonight, entertaining three of his new partners. Striker has reserved us a table next to his." Mike held up a cute little white flag of surrender and waved it. Sammichan grinned. "See you then," said Faloe, cheerfully. They hung up. "Who was it?" exploded Spazz, unable to wait any longer. "That was a woman I'm involved with," said Faloe, "Can't say any mo-WHA!" Spazz had swept him up in a huge hug. "My wittle Faloe is getting aaaaall gwown up!" she squealed, happily, "You finally got a DATE! Wheeeee!" "Blaaaarg!" yelped Faloe, who was getting choked, "It's NOT a date!" he protested, "We're just-gaaaah." Spazz wasn't listening, she'd just remembered something. "Oh! Do you have a moment to do the laundry?" she asked. Faloe glared. "Pweez? Pwetty pwetty pweaaaaaz?" She did her puppy-eyes. "C'mon, there's a new Laundromat down the block." Faloe's eyes lit up, "First one to make the manager lose her mind gets free pop from 7-11!" he yelled. They rushed to gather up the laundry.  
  
Chapter 13 The Big Shiny Nightclub was cool. There was a big neon sign on the front that flashed pretty colors. Faloe parked and got out. He headed for the entrance, then stopped. He'd just spotted Sammichan. She looked great in a body-tight low-cut black gown that fanned at the sleeves and bottom of the dress. Her hair had been conditioned so it wasn't as fluffy as usual, instead, falling in waterfalls of curls. She'd also put some kind of dark black or blue glittering eyeshadow on. "Sammichan," he said, trying not to look too amazed. "I know you love that black hoody of yours, so I thought I'd go gothic," she said. "You look great," he said, truthfully. "Oh, I got something for you," she said. She pulled a bloody skull pin out of her evening bag and pinned it on. "Thanks!" said Faloe. She pulled out a compact and opened. Instead of a mirror, there was a TV screen with her face on it. "It's a camera," she explained, pointing to the pin. "Great, now everyone knows," said Faloe, trying to sound like authoritative. "Sorry," said Sammichan. She took his arm and they walked towards the doors, where loud music escaped every time someone opened the door. "What name are we under?" Faloe quietly asked, as they neared the bouncer. "I don't know! You're the commander, didn't you talk to Striker?" "No, of course not! I was doing laundry!" "You inherited a over quarter billion and you tell me you were doing laundry?!" "For my friend, Spazz. We were trying to drive the Laundromat manager mad," he explained. "That doesn't help!" she snapped. "Good evening," said the bouncer, looking down at them through his black sunglasses. "Hi," tried Faloe. "You got a reservation?" he asked, holding up his list. "Of course!" lied Faloe, "Mr. Torkelson and Ms. Johnson." He slapped down a ten-dollar bill and grinned like a maniac. The bouncer didn't.  
  
Two minutes later they were in the alleyway behind the hotel. Faloe spotted an open door and dragged Sammichan along. "You're a billionaire and you try to grease the guy with TEN BUCKS?!" she was ranting. "You think I got rich throwing cash away?" asked Faloe. As they approached the door, another bouncer stood in the way. Faloe sighed. "Here, I'll talk to him," said Sammichan. She plastered on a very wide smile and walked up to the guy, but before she could say anything, Faloe executed a perfect flying kick to his temple. "Much faster and more efficient!" he said, happily, "He'll never know what hit him!" Sammichan shrugged and stepped over the bouncer. "We're still a long ways from Whartmann," said Sammichan. "I know!" said Faloe, cheerfully leading the way. An amplified voice boomed through the halls backstage. "Idiots and morons! The Big Shiny Nightclub is proud to present, the musical legend-" "Xellos Metallium?!" cried Faloe, mostly in surprise. He'd never met Xellos in person, but knew he was one of David's friends. Faloe only knew what he looked like because Filia had pictures of him all over her pottery workshop. "Yes?" asked Xellos. "We came to see your show," said Sammichan. "She forgot to make reservations," explained Faloe. "Oh, how very unfortunate," said Xellos, "I'm sure Zelas wouldn't mind if you stole Richard's spot. He'd dead, anyways. It's right next to that idiot Whartmann's table." "Thank you sooooo much," said Sammichan, looking up at him with her sweetest smile. "Enjoy the show," Xellos smiled, "By the way, you got boobs so big you could point with them!" Sammichan punched him back into the dressing room. "Put your hands together for the kawaiiest coolest, and most powerful Mazoku in the show business," the announcer was saying. "SERVES YOU RIGHT!" she yelled at his unconscious form. "YOU IDIOT! YOU KILLED XELLOS METALLIUM!" Faloe yelled at her. "No I didn't," said Sammichan, matter-of-factly, "I've tried it before, it only knocks people out for a few minutes." "We don't HAVE a few minutes," snapped Faloe. "You're the commander, think of something, fast," said Sammichan, grinning. "Get the microphone, tell the audience Xellos Metallium is in the bathroom being constipated and that there'll be another act by Faloe." "I'm not saying he's constipated," said Sammichan. "You do know I was being sarcastic?" asked Faloe. Sammichan punched him and departed. Faloe took a program out of Xellos's pocket and looked through it. On stage, sparkling purple lights danced as Sammichan strode on stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "Xellos Metallium-" The audience started applauding. She ignored them. "Will be here in a few minutes, due to unprecedented circumstances." An angry murmur went through the crowd like a ripple. "Stay right where you are! The Big Shiny Nightclub is proud to present, the Filler-In guy Faloe!" Faloe ran onstage amidst a wave of protests. "SHUT UP AND LISTEN!" he yelled into the microphone. The audience obeyed. "Now that's much better," he said, happily. Sammichan stood to the side, trying not to burst out laughing. Ben was looking very unhappy. He really wanted to see Xellos, not some crazy punk kid with long fluffy hair. The musicians were David's butlers and maids; they didn't look too surprised. Faloe smiled and picked up the microphone. He started singing the only song on the program he knew, Secret~Someone's Message. "Yuruyaka na sakamichi kakenobottara," he sang, having no idea what the heck what it meant. He only knew the lyrics because Kitti had been blasting it over the radio for the past month. "Sukoshi yasumeba ii oka ni koshikakete, hirogaru oozora habataki nagara uta o utau kotoritachi mo." From the wings, Sammichan was looking very impressed. Faloe could sing pretty! Whartmann's guests looked entertained. Whartmann didn't though. He wanted Xellos!  
  
"Hora hane o yasumasete nemutteru, isoganaide aseranaide arukimashou," sang Faloe ""hirameki" to ka okoru guuzen ni michibikarete, minna shalalala lala- " Whartmann's girlfriend, Alison, stood up and started 'dancing', which was irritating Ben. "Sorezore tabi o tsuzukeru onaji taiyou no shita de, ashita ga youi shiteru takusan shiawase to meguriau tame ni." Backstage n the dressing room, Xellos was lunching, looking at his favorite issue of PlayMazoku. It was the Johnny the Homicidal Maniac one, he loved the Happy Noodle Boy comics in the back. Xellos glanced at his watch, 3 more seconds until he was supposed to 'wake up', yell 'Good God!', and run onstage. (He'd never actually been knocked out.) Beep! Beep! Beep! He stretched and yawned, then teleported onstage. Sammichan looked shocked. The band kept playing the instrumental, though Zelgadiss looked very displeased at his presence. Faloe raised and eyebrow in question, Xellos grinned and pulled a spare mike out of that secret place behind all anime characters' backs. "Kanashii toki to ka ureshii toki ni, kobore ochiru nami wa totemo kirei desu..." they sang, in unison. The audience went wild. At Ben's table, Alison stopped one of the bouncers; the one Faloe had tried to bribe with ten bucks. She slipped him a hundred-dollar bill, which made him very happy. "Have Faloe stop by at our table," she said, smiling. "What are you doing?" asked Ben, looking offended. "What does it look like I'm doing?" asked Alison. Onstage Faloe and Xellos were finishing up. "Zutto hanarenaide boku wa mimamotte imasu anata no ushiro de.." The concert had been great. The audience fawned over Faloe as he struggled through them, followed by Sammichan, to Whartmann's table. He stopped to sign autographs. "Would you cut it out?!" Sammichan snapped at him, "At this rate it'll be morning before we get to Whartmann!" Faloe did his sad puppy face. Sammichan sighed, "Hurry up, Whartmann's girlfriend's been drinking. She'll be easy to get answers fr-FALOE!!! ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?! THAT'S IT!" She grabbed him by his hoody and bulldozed through the crowd. Faloe let himself be dragged along, waving happily at his fans. She shoved him in front of her as they approached Whartmann's table. "We're honored to have you join us," said Ben, with a very forced smile. He turned to Jay. "Go take care of what we were talking about." Jay got up and left. Ben took out a cigarette and offered the pack to Faloe. "Cigarette?" he asked. "Nah," said Faloe, "It tastes nasty." Ben shrugged and stuck the cigarette in his mouth. Immediately, a lighter slid into Faloe's hand and lit it. "Thanks," said Ben. Alison was thrilled to have the Filler-in guy Faloe sitting by her. "Singing is my favorite type of music," she said, enthusiastically. "That's Alison," said Ben. When she leaned forward to shake hands Faloe noticed an emerald brooch that looked like a shapeless blob pinned to the shoulder of her strappy gown. It looked like the shapeless blob David had been drawing on the limo before it blew up. "Hi," he said, "I'm Faloe." "Do you ever dance, unprofessionally?" she asked. "Hm.yeah, sometimes," he replied. A moment later they were on the dance floor. "So, you and Ben seem really close. I be he tells you everything," said Faloe, casually. "He tells me I move my butt too much when I dance," she said, "He's so critical. Where'd you learn to dance?" "Nightclubs," he said. She giggled and held him waaaaaaaaaaay too close. Ben was watching them dance through narrowed eyes. Sammichan saw the need for a distraction. She took a sip of champagne to calm her nerves, then 'accidentally' spilled it all over Whartmann. "Whoops!" she said, gleefully, "My bad!" "THAT WAS MY FAVORITE SHIRT!" yelled Ben, standing up and dripping champagne everywhere. On the dance floor Faloe was trying to get farther away from Alison, who was practically hugging him. "What's Ben working on these days?" he asked, hoping to distract her. "Oh, a thingydoodle," she replied, "He uses all those big words and scientific crap. You're cute." "Uh.thanks," said Faloe, not really sure how to respond. "You're such a sweetie," giggled Alison, "You know what I like about you? I love your hair." "Thanks!" said Faloe, with genuine happiness. He really liked his hair too. "Yeah," said Alison; "maybe we could go somewhere.else. You seem like a great guy." At the table, Sammichan had managed to spill three more champagnes, a bottle of grape pop and a tray of tea scones on Whartmann, who was soaked. "Oopsies! Clumsy me!" she exclaimed, as she 'accidentally' ran into a passerby holding a cup of mocha. Splash! It spilled all over Ben's head. "Oh! I'll get you some napkins!" she said, happily grabbing a handful of napkins and proceeded to stick them all over him, which made him look like some kind of mutated chicken. "Times like this make me wish I'd stayed at home in my lab," he muttered to himself. Sammichan took note of this subtle comment. Sploosh! Another passerby fell victim to Sammichan, drenching Ben in lemonade. Jay appeared near the table and Ben left, leaving a soggy trail of mixed beverages in his wake. Jay had a hard time containing his laughter. "Shut up," snapped Ben. Jay obeyed. "So who are they?" Jay didn't reply. "I SAID! WHO ARE THEY?!" Jay remained stonily silent. "DON'T IGNORE ME YOU IDIOT!" Jay still didn't say anything. "GOD DANGIT YOU MORON!!! TELL ME!" "But you told me to shut up!" he burst out. "Well un-shut up!" "Okay, the girl is Sammichan Murasaki, she's a Gang. The guy is David Metallium." "I always thought David was Asian!" "We killed David at Burger King," Jay continued. "You mean he has a twin?" asked Ben. "NO! It means he's back from the dead and all over your date," Jay explained. "Well! Get Brian and Andrew, and make sure you finish the job this time!" Jay nodded and left. Whartmann got to the table at the same time as Faloe and Alison. "I'm going to go take care of some business." He turned to Alison, "Would you mind if I left you with Faloe and Sammichan?" he handed her a key, "Here's the key to the suite," he said, then left. Alison looked at Faloe very suggestively. She faked a yawn that deceived no one. "Well," she said, "since I'm staying in room 1854, I think I'll go up to room 1854 and take a nice hot Jacuzzi in the bath and go to king on the sleep-sized bed. In room 1854." "Sounds yummy," said Sammichan, sarcastically. "Nighty night!" said Faloe. Alison left. "And once again, we end up with nothing," Sammichan said to Faloe. "I can get her to talk," said Faloe. "Yeah, she'll talk." She went into an imitation of Alison: "Oh, Faloe, sign my boobie!" "Okay!" said Faloe, "Got a marker?" Sammichan slapped him. "I was kidding!" he said, defensively. "Right," she snapped, "Can I go home now?" "No, you gotta cover me." "Fine, I'll be by the pool. Could I borrow your hoody? It's cold." She got up. "Sorry, I need my hoody," said Faloe, apologetically. "You're quite the gentleman," she said, scathingly, "I guess chivalry is dead." A woman walked by and put a cigarette in her mouth. The tuxedo reached out and lit it. The woman nodded and smiled at Faloe. "Nice, really nice," said Sammichan, looking hurt, "Thanks a lot." She stormed off.  
  
Chapter 14 Faloe walked into room 1854 warily, closing and locking the open door behind him. Alison's purse was open on the table. "Alison? Hello?" he called. "Be right there," she called from the bathroom. Faloe began digging through her purse. The bathroom door opened, causing him to jump. Alison's jacket flew out. "Hang that for me, will you?" she called. Faloe caught it; unfortunately, he still had a hand in the purse, which fell over. A compact, hairbrush, and Palm Pilot fell out. He caught them, too. He threw her coat onto the hook. At that moment Alison emerged from the bathroom. Faloe threw the things under the couch before she noticed. "I know you can dance," she said, "What else can you do?" "I'll show you," said Faloe.  
  
Outside, by the pool, Sammichan took the compact out of her purse. "Okay, David," she said to herself, "let's see your 'magic'." She opened the compact. On the screen she saw Alison's elated face. "Oh, that's so good!" she was saying, "You're amazing." "I should have stayed at the morgue," Sammichan muttered to herself. If she'd been there, she would have seen Faloe was playing Yoshiworld on Gameboy. "So," said Faloe, as his blue yoshi shot eggs at bad guys, "what about that good friend of Ben's, Crig Ed?" "Ummmm, never heard of him." She took out a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth. The hoody immediately lit it for her. "Who were those people at the table?" he asked her. "Ben's associates," Alison replied, "very important." "They're in the chocolate business too?" asked Faloe. "That's what he does?" asked Alison, "I thought he made fertilizer or something. Why don't you stay a while?" she asked, tugging on his hoody. "Sure," he said, "Where did you get that pin?" he asked, indicating the shapeless emerald blob pin on her shoulder. "Ben. You know what I found out about this?" "What?" asked Faloe, trying not to look too eager. "They're not real emeralds," she whispered, "He's giving them away to everyone on the big release date." Downstairs, Sammichan watched, turning the compact to get a better view. She didn't notice the shadow moving toward her among the stacked lounge chairs. "When is that?" asked Faloe. "Tomorrow night. You want to have a closer look?" Alison unpinned the pin and gave it to Faloe. Faloe turned it over in his hands, watching it sparkle. He knew Kitti would love to have one of these, she absolutely adored sparkly things. "Excuse me, while I go powder my nose," said Alison. "Sure," said Faloe, trying to figure out a way to steal the pin without her noticing. Maybe Kitti would give him a raise! Outside, in the hall, Brian and Andrew were trying to pick the lock. Problem was, neither of them had the slightest idea how to use the little pieces of kinky wire Jay had given them. Brian tried inserting all of the lock picks backwards; to his surprise, it worked. "I'm good!" he declared, as Andrew kicked open the door. By the pool, Sammichan saw them break in. She sprang to her feet and ran towards the door, but only succeeded in running into Jay. She was thrown back near the pool. In Alison's room, Brian and Andrew were chasing Faloe around the room. Faloe had left the hoody on spider mode. "I'll be right out!" Alison called. "Take your time!" Faloe called back. He dropped off the ceiling and kicked Andrew in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Downstairs, Jay dragged Sammichan into the shadows. She punched him in the head. The tumbled into the pool, splashing water everywhere in their fighting. Jay scored a lucky punch to Sammichan's head and held her underwater. Meanwhile, Faloe was kicking some serious butt. He sent Brian hurling through the window into the balcony. He followed him to finish the fight. He saw Jay and Sammichan in the pool below and decided she needed help. He hurled Brian over the balcony. Brian fell fast, waving his arms madly. Sammichan was trying to think straight. Everything was swimming and shimmering and nothing made sense. Bubbles bloomed from her mouth. She needed air. Jay was drowning her. Jay started to do a really corny evil villain laugh. "Heh heh heh-" Then Brian hit him like a seal from the sky. Upstairs, Faloe was vacuuming the broken glass from the window he had kicked Brian through. Sammichan appeared in the doorway with her hair sopping wet and her black dress clinging to her like spandex. She watched Faloe singing the doom song and vacuuming. "Is NOT what I signed up for! STOP!" she demanded. Faloe did. "What?" he asked. Alison came out of the bathroom. "What have you been doing?" she asked. "Cleaning up," said Faloe. Now Alison noticed Sammichan. "What is she doing here?" she demanded. Sammichan had had enough. She ran at Alison and head-butted her. Alison joined the ranks of the unconscious. "Gods, I've been spending way too much time around Mike," she muttered, "His head-butting thing is wearing off on me." It was time to go. They emerged from the trashed suite the same time an old couple came out of their room. They smiled fondly at Faloe and Sammichan as they passed. "Honeymooners," the woman said to her husband.  
  
Chapter 15 In the kitchen of David's mansion, Faloe and Sammichan were cleaning each other's wounds with alcohol, and cotton balls. Sammichan winced. "Ow! Can't you do anything?!" "What are you so pissed about?" asked Faloe. "Gee, lemme think. Maybe because big ugly guys are trying to kill me? Or maybe because I'm stuck with a billionaire homicidal kamikaze playboy freak for a partner?" "Whatever comes into your head come out your mouth," said Faloe, "You don't care about how it makes people feel." "I happen to be an extremely sensitive and delicate person," she retorted, poking a cut on Faloe's head with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball. Faloe winced. "You think you know about feelings? Look at me, how do I feel?" His bottom lip trembled and his eyes seemed to double in size as he did his sad puppy face. "Like you're gonna cry." "Good! How about now?" He smiled. "Homicidal," said Sammichan. "Happy!" he corrected her, "No wonder you couldn't get anything from Whartmann. You only know negative feelings." "Right," said Sammichan, "I didn't get anything but the location of his lab." "Where?" asked Faloe. "His lab is in his house," said Sammichan. "Good! You passed," said Faloe, thinking fast, "I'll put in a good word with Striker." "Let's go to HQ tonight. Striker or Kitti will forge a federal search warrant and give up enough backup to go out to Ben's and do a complete search-" Faloe shook his head. "I'm not sinking to the level of my superiors," he said, "Keep Striker out of this. Just you and me, Sammichan."  
  
At HQ Kitti was watching the tape recorded by the bloody skull camera. In the tape, Alison moved toward 'David'. The hoody was reflected in a mirror. 'David' turned just before dropping out of the frame. Kitti paused the tape, rewound it, and replayed it in slow-mo. She hit the freeze button. On the screen, reflected in the mirror, was Faloe, not David, in the hoody. "WHAAAAT?!" shrieked Kitti, "IT'S FALOE!!! FALOE! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING THERE?! YOU FREAKY LIMO DRIVER!!! GET BACK HERE NOW! Oh, wait, you're on tape.okay. I'll yell at you later you STUPID BUTTMUNCHER! I'LL POKE YOU TO DEATH!!! Better tell that antisocial freak Striker about this." A few minutes later Striker was watching the tape. Dew, Nate, and Kitti sat by him. "I don't think Sammichan knows yet," said Kitti, "We can pull her out, get the hoody, and then get that BUTTMUNCHER FALOE out of there-" "I think Whartmann will take care of that for us," said Striker. "I wasn't talking about killing him, like, really killing him," said Kitti. "He's expendable," Striker replied, coldly. "NO HE'S NOT!" snapped Kitti. "Yes, he is," said Striker, patiently. "No, he's not," said Kitti. "Yes, he is. Period." "Delete. No, he's not. Underlined, italicized, bold, caps lock, highlighted purple, letter color yellow, and in font size 72. PERIOD!" "Undo. Yes, he is. Underlined, italicized, bold, caps lock, highlighted green, letter color yellow, border, and font size 72. Period." "Control A, backspace. No, he's not. Underlined, italicized, bold, caps lock, highlighted black, letter color aqua, Daisy#2 border, shaded orchid, and font size 72. EXCLAMATION MARK!" "Undo. Yes, he is. Underlined italicized, bold." "This is going to take forever," Nate muttered to Dew. Dew nodded in agreement and they settled in for nice, long, naps.  
  
Chapter 16 The next night, at the Whartmann estate, Faloe and Sammichan stood in line to the door. Sammichan was wearing a sparkling sleeveless black gown. Faloe, as usual, wore his hoody. At the entrance, thugs were collecting invitations. "For a guy who wants to take over the world, Ben sure entertains a lot," Faloe whispered to Sammichan. "Invitations?" asked one of the thugs. "Why don't you offer him a few bucks?" Sammichan whispered back. Faloe ignored her. "I'm sure I have them somewhere," he said. He turned away and picked the pocket of a nearby man for invitations. He handed them to the thug. "Thank you, Mr. Karma," said the thug. "You're welcome," said Faloe. He turned to Sammichan. "Come, darling." Ben's humongous patio area was decorated for the big release of the new product. Guests danced around a 10-foot chocolate statue of a monkey as circus performer flew on cables and swooped over them, occasionally stealing a chunk of chocolate from the monkey. The monkey was already earless. Faloe and Sammichan made their way across the party area and onto the grounds. They wanted to check things out. They dropped into the shadows when they saw three thugs carrying some sort of containers. "Let's follow them," Faloe whispered. "Why?" Sammichan whispered back. The thugs went through an opening in a hedge. "They'll lead us to the lab," explained Faloe, impatiently. They ducked through the hedge and followed them. They were in a darkened area near a swimming pool. The diving board was vibrating for some odd reason. "You have a way of saying things that are totally convincing and totally wrong," said Sammichan. "You talk too much and say too little," Faloe retorted. He stood at the edge of the pool and stared into it. "Don't tell me the great David Metallium can't come up with an answer," said Sammichan, mockingly. Faloe stepped off the edge and walked across the surface. "How the heck did you do that?" she asked, amazed. He walked to the center of the pool. Sammichan didn't trust the surface and climbed onto the diving board to get a better look. "This is a trick, right?" she asked. The diving board tipped downward as the pool began splitting down the middle. The two halves moving apart. Faloe straddled the split, looking down a steep stairway. Yep, it was most definitely a trick. They slid down a ramp alongside the stairs. When they got to the bottom, they found themselves in a corridor. Sammichan looked up at the ramp. "Wheelchair accessible," she said, "At least Whartmann's an equal-opportunity sociopath." They began to creep through the underground corridor, wary of attackers. Lining the walls were display cases showing odd insects. "David is very interested insects," said Faloe, to himself. "What?" asked Sammichan. "Nuttin'," said Faloe. There were lights ahead, from the lab. They approached stealthily and sneaked into the large room. In the lab were pools filled with strange-looking liquids. Prettyman was talking to two technicians in lab coats near one of the pools. Faloe and Sammichan ducked down and listened. "When you're done here," Prettyman was saying, "go sweep the tunnel. Don't use the blower, I can tell the difference." "Yes, Dr. Prettyman," said one of the technicians. "And don't drink the tequila," he added, as the technician left, "It's for Mr. Whartmann and me." He went into another lab. "They don't pay us enough to put up with that overconfident moron," muttered one of the technicians. "Let's go have a smoke," said his companion. They left. Once they were gone, Faloe and Sammichan went into the lab. Faloe examined a map on the wall and Sammichan examined the pools. She lifted her floor-length dress and took out a test kit from her thigh. It was just below her Beretta pistol. Using a small pair of tongs she dipped the test tube into the pool's liquid. They were dissolved instantly. "I'm guessing this is toxic," she said, wrinkling her nose at it. "Look at this," Faloe called. Sammichan crossed the room to check it out. There were red lines that radiated from a point on the map. She gasped, "He's pinpointed all the manufacturers!" Faloe looked at the vats of vile stuff, then at the maps. "He's going to poison the chocolate," he said. "Not with that stuff," she replied, "It's too detectable, and there are safeguards. Let's check out the computer." "Good thinking," said Faloe. He crossed the room to look at a large electronic device that was covered with fancy dials and flashing lights. "That's the stereo system," explained Sammichan. "Good, you passed another test," said Faloe. She gave him a look and they moved to the computer. He pulled out the chair for her. She sat down, and noticing a post-it note on the computer, ripped it off. "How wrong is this?" she asked, as she started typing. "What?" asked Faloe. "They used Chaos as a password." She started typing in commands and opening files. Her face fell with each document. "Oh my god," she whispered, "DNA microbes carrying-" "English," commanded Faloe. "A genetically induced-" "Normal person's English!" "Constipating chocolate. You eat and you blow up." "Awesome!" exclaimed Faloe. "But how the heck is he going to get it into the chocolate?" muttered Sammichan. She glanced at Faloe. He looked happy. "Why are you smiling? Are you happy about this or something?" "No," said Faloe, "This is my homicidal face." Three thugs were coming at them from another corridor. "Let's kill 'em!" he said, enthusiastically. "No, it would cause too much of a disturbance," said Sammichan. "What's the alternative? Act like drunk idiots and pretend we thought this was a jacuzzi or something?" asked Faloe. "Good idea!" said Sammichan. "Oh gods." muttered Faloe as Sammichan went into the act immediately. "This issn't jacuzzi.you stupid." she slurred, stumbling into the desks. "She loves hot tubs," Faloe told the thugs. He slapped her butt as they headed for the ladder. "Mush!" Sammichan resisted the temptation to turn around and punch him. The thugs grinned, and it seemed like they might actually get away with it. But then Prettyman appeared on the scene. He watched them leave with suspicion all over his face.  
  
At the party, everyone was dancing. Ben was going around passing out sparkly green blob pins to all the ladies. Thugs patrolled the perimeter, searching for the intruders. Faloe and Sammichan were hiding out in the crowd. "Are you freaked?" Sammichan asked him. "No." "Me neither," she said, "he's got the bacteria, but he can't get it into the chocolate." "Maybe by fertilizer," Faloe mused. "Nah," said Sammichan, "Cacao trees are pretty hardy. They don't need much fertilizer." "Really? Cool," said Faloe. "You're doing it again," accused Sammichan. "What?" asked Faloe, innocently. "You're always testing me, acting like you don't know anything. You've taught a so much, and not just about being a good agent. I'm really glad I could work with the famous David Metallium," said Sammichan, in a very, very, rare moment of sincerity. Faloe looked into her eyes and stopped dancing. "I want to tell you something," he said, "David Metallium isn't who you think he is." Sammichan looked puzzled for a moment; then her cell phone rang. She answered it. "Hello?" she said, "Sammichan Murasaki here. Sorry Kitti, I can't talk now." She listened to whatever Kitti was saying, apparently it was very important. Faloe waited patiently for her to be done. "Okay." she said, "I understand. I can handle it." She pressed the end button. "What was that?" asked Faloe. "Can we go somewhere to be alone?" she said. She pulled him off the dance floor. The nearest place was a cabana bathroom. Sammichan pulled him in and locked the door. "Ow," muttered Faloe, rubbing his wrists, "I didn't know you were so strong." "Take off your clothes," she ordered. "How much will you pay me?" he asked, good-naturedly. She whipped out her Beretta and pointed it at his head. "I knew when I met you, you weren't David Metallium," she said, "You tricked me. Now get the hoody off. It doesn't belong to you." Faloe pulled it off. "I was going to tell you," he said, "eventually, anyways." "Shut up. Give me the pants, and the watch. What the heck were you thinking?!" "Hm.good question. I don't think I was." "What about the shirt and boxers?" asked Sammichan. "They're mine," said Faloe. She left him in the cabana. Her eyes brimming with tears, she made her way to the exit. She was almost out when Brian blocked her path. "You're not supposed to leave without saying good-bye to the host," he informed her. "I was just looking for him," she lied. "I'll take you to him," said Brian. He put a huge hand on the back of her neck and started going out the door, then stopped. "Wait a minute, uh.other way." He tightened his hold and maneuvered her through the dancers for about ten minutes, going in big loopy circles. He scratched his head when they arrived back at the exit. "That can't be right.oh!" He led her through the dancers again; many who were now 'dancing' like they were. Ben was waiting for them. He smiled when he saw them arrive. "Like a big monkey with a little mouse," he chuckled. "I think she was down in the lab," said Brian, proudly "Believe what you want," said Sammichan, coolly, "But I'm here because of you. This can replace your ruined shirt." She handed him the hoody.  
  
Chapter 16 Faloe sneaked out of the cabana, clad only in his boxers and shirt. He made his way to the driveway, which was covered with limos, waiting for their passengers. He tapped one of the drivers on the shoulder. The driver turned around and Faloe punched him in the face. He charged Faloe but he tripped him. The driver hit the ground, hard, and was knocked out. Faloe grinned. Life was still good. He stole the keys to the limo, got in, and left in a cloud of dust. Faloe drove around town, not really knowing what to do. He ended up back at David's mansion. He sat alone, wearing his favorite 'GOD is BUSY.may I help you?' shirt, writing a note of apology to David and sipping hot chocolate. David's desk was neatly organized. A mini Xellos-shrine stood next to several photographs of the grass. "Deer David," Faloe wrote, "I did my best to find Crig Ed. I reelly did. I even stol yore hoody and went to work for you. But then Sammichan found out I wassn't you and took the hoody. I'm pritty shore you will get it back tho. I am going to go back to being a limo driverr now. Sinsirily, Faloe." He reached for the hot chocolate, but since he wasn't looking, it spilled all over the photographs. "Ah.crap," he said. He tried mopping it up with paper, but then stopped, noticing something. There was a note next to the picture. It read 'bacteria on cricket' with a little arrow pointing toward a shapeless blob. Faloe took out Alison's sparkly pin and placed it next to the shapeless blob. It was the same thing, except Kitti would give him a raise for the pin instead of the sketch. "Cricket," he said to himself.  
  
Ring ring ring! It was the phone in Striker's office at HQ. Nate answered it. "Striker, Faloe Xion is on two." "Who?" asked Striker, who was playing Ratchet and Clank for the millionth time. "David Metallium's driver," Nate reminded him, "He's calling for Sammichan Murasaki." "What?" asked Striker. "David's driver," repeated Nate, "He's looking for Sammichan." "Oh, who now?" "IF YOU WOULD PULL YOUR HEAD AWAY FROM THE VIDEO GAME FOR A SECOND YOU WOULD KNOW!" "What?" "Just.answer the freaking phone." "Okay," said Striker. He kept playing. "STRIIIIIIIKER!" Striker picked up the phone. "Sorry, Striker Infinity is not here. He is playing a very important video game. Can I take a message?" "STRIKER!" yelled Faloe. "Phhhhtt," said Striker. Faloe ignore that. "I need to talk to Sammichan," he said, urgently. "Negative," said Striker. "Is she there?" he asked. "Negative," said Striker, again. "You have an important piece of technology that is wrongfully in your possession. It would be in your mortal interest to return it. If you don't I will blow you to little pieces." "DO YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT THAT STUPID HOODY?!" screamed Faloe. "Hm.actually right now I'm very interested in returning to my video game, I only said that because this is a fanfiction," said Striker, "By the way, where are you? And where's the hoody?" Faloe slammed the phone down, picked it up, and dialed a different number. Brian answered. "Hello?" "Is Sammichan Murasaki there?" "Who?" "Short girl with long frizzy brown hair and a bad temper." "Uh.yeah.OW! HEY! Oh, I'm not supposed to tell him that? Okay, no, she's not here." "Thank you!" Faloe hung up.  
  
"Did you get a trace?" Striker asked Nate. "Nope, it was too fast," said Nate. "Damnit," swore Striker, "Faloe could be working for Ben for all we know. Find Sammichan Murasaki, now." He went back to his video game. Meanwhile, Ben was leading Sammichan to some kind of curtained area that contained a kind of hatchery. Jay followed them, carrying Sammichan's equipment: her gun, test kit, inflatable mace, and the hoody. Prettyman turned around and looked up from his console. On the console was a bottle of sake and six Japanese-style cups. He looked displeased. "What is she doing here?" he asked, "Ben?" Ben took the hoody from Jay and tossed it to Prettyman. "I want to know what that is." Sammichan's cell phone rang. Everyone else felt for their phones before realizing they had neglected to take Sammichan's phone from her. "I thought you searched her," said Ben. The phone kept ringing. Jay followed the sound and tried to reach down the front of Sammichan's dress, where she kept her phone. She punched him out of the way. "Excuse me," she snapped. She took out the phone and pressed a button on the underside. A red light started blinking. Jay struggled to regain consciousness on the other side of the room so he could take it from her. Everyone waited patiently for him. In the end Ben took it from her and threw it into one of the pools of acid stuff. "You couldn't take a message?" she asked. On the other side of town, in van with a radio dish on the roof, Dew and Nate sat at the control panel. On one of the screens a red light began blinking. Dew was actually talking on the phone, as in saying more than just 'Whu.?'. "We got Sammichan's location," he said. "Time elapse until we are able to reach her current location?" asked Striker. "Whu?" "How long until we get to her," explained Striker. "Twenty minutes." "Transmit the coordinate," ordered Striker, "Begin retrieval at once. Let's hope she is able to stall them." "Say what?" "Just tell me her absolute location." "Wha?" "The longitude and latitude." "The what?" "The latticed lines," said Striker, exasperated, "Let's really hope she is able stall them." "What lines?" "The ones that go vertical and horizontal." "Whu?" "THE UP AND DOWN AND SIDE TO SIDE LINES!!!" "Okay." "And take some caffeine pills, please." "Whu?" "Never mind."  
  
Back at David's mansion Faloe opened his closet and grabbed his hoody, then stopped, noticing something. An opaque suit bag was hanging next to all the black things. A note was attached to it. It read: '5% is your wits, the other 5% is your secrets.' Faloe unzipped the bag.  
  
In the curtained area thing, Ben held up a glass pod thing that glowed a dazzling shade of green. "Look at them," he said, "Aren't they cute?" The pod was full of wriggling insects. "Crickets," said Sammichan, then, in a moment of brilliance, "Crig Ed!" "Yep," said Ben, "Crickets." Prettyman appeared, holding the hoody. "It's brilliant," said Sammichan, sarcastically, "You put the bacteria on the cricket, who contaminates the grass, which the cows eat, which then gets transferred into the milk, which is then used for chocolate. Fortunately, there is one edible chocolate, yours." "Ta-dah!" crowed Ben, triumphantly; "Ben's Bars rule the world!" Dr. Prettyman, who had just entered carrying the hoody, looked happy. He was, after all, the one who was supposed to have created the bacteria and the plan (actually, the thugs had to go catch crickets for him because he couldn't catch them himself.) "Good for you," said Sammichan, "Too bad it won't work." Prettyman stopped smiling. "It will too!" he whined, "My plan is perfect! I mean," he caught Ben's look, "your and my plan, um, our plan, yeah." "Shut up Prettyman," snapped Ben. He turned to Sammichan. "Explain." "Well," said Sammichan, trying to stall for time, "If the crickets infect all the grasses the cows consume, then therefore the cows would become infected the bacteria too. They would become constipated and blow up before being able to deliver any milk to use for chocolate. And even if you did somehow find a way to get around this rather noticeable obstacle milk isn't only used in the production of chocolate. All dairy products would be infected with the bacteria, not merely chocolate. You lose," she concluded, triumphantly. "Is this true?" Whartmann asked Prettyman. "Um.er.well.that.uh.you're not going to believe this little woman!" protested Prettyman. "WHAT did you call me?!" Sammichan snapped. "Um.nuttin'," lied Prettyman. "It sure didn't SOUND like nuttin' to me!" "What about the hoody?" asked Whartmann, changing the subject. "It's good," said Prettyman. "Good?!" shouted Sammichan, "It's the most incredible piece of technology on the entire fuREAKING planet!!! You just call it GOOD?!" "Ben, please, release the bugs," said Prettyman. Sammichan snatched the hoody from his hands and held it up. "Go ahead, release them," she taunted, "You might win 2nd place at a grade- school science fair but you can forget world domination." Whartmann looked at suspiciously. "Try it on, Ben, see how it feels." He pulled the hoody over his head. It was comfortable. He smiled. Meanwhile, Faloe was outside Whartmann's estate. He walked up to the door thug. "Karma, right?" said the thug, looking very pleased with himself. "Nope," said Faloe, "Guess again, you have until the count of three." "Uh." "One.THREE! You lose!" "Hey! That's not fair!" "Screw fair." Faloe grabbed the thug by his tie, "Go tell Ben David Metallium is back." A dome of gun barrels instantly surrounded Faloe's head. "You know, if all of you shoot at once about half of you are gonna miss and hit another person." "Shut up," snapped the door thug. Downstairs in the hatchery, Ben was now decked out in the hoody. "I look like some punk dude," he complained, "I want my preppie stuff back!" "Try the watch," said Sammichan, still stalling. Ben did. He did a few amazing flips, and juggling acts, then started acting like a chicken. "Bawk bawk bawbawBAWK!" he squawked, "Cool! I've always wanted to be a chicken!" he said. "Happy to oblige," said Sammichan, dryly. "Why are you doing this?" asked Ben, suspiciously. "THAT is a secret!" she said, happily. "Why?!" The alarms sounded loudly. "Because at this moment, fifty hired mercenaries will storm in and take you, your preppie attitude, your crappy prep clothes, your disgusting prep hair, and your nerd off to prison. Where, by the way, they only have crappy, half-melted milk chocolate." Shadows and footsteps came from outside the hatchery. Ben grabbed Sammichan, hoping to use her as a hostage. But he didn't have to. The people who came were Jay and Brian, hauling Faloe. "Dang it," muttered Sammichan. "Dr. Prettyman, prepare for release!" ordered Ben. Prettyman enthusiastically took to the buttons on the console. "I like my hair," Ben said to Sammichan. The curtains opened, revealing the ceiling to be filled with teardrop shaped pods that glowed and pulsed. It was beautiful. "Release protocol initiated," said the dorky computer voice. The lights on the console blinked and bleeped. Sammichan moved over to Faloe. "Why the HECK are you here?!" she whispered. "I'm saving you?" he tried. "That's very nice of you, but where's the Gang with their arsenal of weapons?" she asked. "On vacation," he said. "Maturation level seventy-five percent," said the computer. Ben pushed Sammichan out of the way and pulled Faloe close. "For years I've heard about you," he sneered, "The legendary double-o-seven, the genius super-agent. And now we meet, I find that the great David Metallium is nothing more than a long-haired punk." "Yare yare yare. The name's Xion. Faloe Xion." Faloe leapt up and pulled off his hoody. Revealing a really cool high-tech hoody underneath that. Jay and Brian charged him. But using the Spider mode, he was able to evade and beat up both of them. "Let's not get too cocky," smirked Whartmann. He launched himself at Faloe and the fight was on! Faloe fought hard, but Ben's hoody was very powerful. "Maturation level one hundred percent," said the computer. "Prettyman! Open the hatch!" ordered Whartmann. Prettyman reached for the lever on the console. Sammichan ran to stop him. Jay tried to block her, but she head-butted him into a pool of acid stuff. Jay screamed as he began to sizzle and melt away. Sammichan grabbed a bottle of crazy acid stuff and hurled it like a grenade at the console. Prettyman jerked his hands away as the bottle hit and shattered, spraying its contents all over the console. A sign lit up: Hatch Malfunction. "Ben! She's ruining everything!" whined Prettyman. Ben looked up at the hatch and spotted a manual release. He knocked Faloe towards the edge of the pool of crazy acid stuff. Ben ran to the hatchery. Faloe's spider mode hoody shot a string of web out of his butt, saving him from the pool of acid. He recovered his balance and sprinted after Ben. Sammichan watched Faloe chase Ben with the string of web still sticking out of his butt and waving in the air like a banner. Prettyman was trying to fix his busted console. He turned to Sammichan. "I knew mean girls like you in high school!" he whined. "Did they do this?" asked Sammichan, punching him in the stomach, then sweep-kicking his legs from under him and kicking him into the console. "No," he groaned, "they weren't that mean." "Take away your fancy crap and you're nothing but a pathetic, whiny nerd," she taunted. He grabbed the bottle of sake, took a long draught, and smashed his hand through the glass fire-ax case. "With a really big ax," added Sammichan. Prettyman was totally pissed off now. He took a swing at her. She dodged it, but it caught her dress and ripped it into a butt-skirt. "HENTAI!" she yelled at him. Across the room, Ben scrolled his watch and leapt the fifty feet straight up to the hatch's manual release thingy. Faloe scrolled his watch and leapt, but only rose about ten feet. "Ah.crap," he said, when he landed. He scrolled back to spider mode and allowed the web to carry him up, by his butt. "I am SO getting David to change this," he said. Meanwhile, Prettyman was chasing Sammichan, swinging the ax maniacally. "David! I mean, FALOE! HELP!" she yelled. "I'm busy!" Faloe yelled back. Ben was turning the huge wheel that opened the hatch. Faloe got there in time to wrestle Ben's hands away. He tried closing the hatch. He looked down and saw Sammichan needed some help. He kicked one of the pods free and sent it plummeting towards Prettyman. Ben took advantage of Faloe's temporary preoccupation to put the hoody in strangle mode. Prettyman saw the pod about to smash him and dropped the ax, which bounced into the moat and dissolved. The pod hit him head-on. Sammichan took full advantage of that moment and went into offensive. She alternated punching Prettyman in the face and in the stomach. Prettyman pulled away from her assault and fled. This gave Sammichan time to notice Faloe was in deep trouble. The pods were opening and the crickets were flying out in huge swarms, while Ben had his hands around Faloe's neck. Faloe tried punching Ben in the face, to no avail. The hoody was too powerful. He tried kicking Ben where it really really really hurts. Ben's face turned funny colors and he groaned in agony, but the hoody wouldn't allow him to let go. Sammichan grabbed a hose nearby and threw it up, ensnaring Ben's feet. She pulled, trying to dislodge him. This, however, caused Faloe to suffer more strangulation. Ben kicked his legs and the power of the hoody sent Sammichan flying. She ended up dangling above the acid pool A sudden inspiration struck Faloe's oxygen-starved mind. He used the last of his strength to pull his lighter out of his pocket, and set Ben's hoody on fire. Ben's hands flew to the hoody, trying to put out the flames. Faloe shoved the flaming lighter into Ben's face, knocking him out. He fell and did a face-plant on the metal bridge, which was damp from the acid stuff. His face simmered at the acid ate away at it. Faloe noticed Sammichan was in deep trouble. He jumped, landed on the floor, and saved Sammichan just before she fell into the acid. "You all right?" he asked, concerned. "Yeah, fine," said Sammichan, "Smooth move Faloe. Now millions of people are going to blow up from constipation." She pointed up. "You left the hatch open." "I had to save you!" Faloe protested. "So it's my fault now, is it?" Faloe glanced up at the ceiling. The crickets weren't going anywhere. "They're not going anywhere," he said. "No shit," said Sammichan, sarcastically. Faloe noticed a remote next to the console. It was labeled 'Cricket remote'. "There's a remote!" he said. "Great," said Sammichan. "As long as we have that, the crickets aren't going anywhere." "C'mon," said Faloe. He grabbed the remote and sprinted towards the exit. Sammichan followed him. Prettyman and a few dozen of Ben's henchmen appeared in the exit. Faloe skidded to a halt to avoid colliding with them. Sammichan was not so fortunate, she ran into Faloe, who dropped the remote. Prettyman caught it. "I got the remote!" he yelled, triumphantly. Then he tripped and Sammichan caught it. All the thugs pointed their guns at Sammichan. "Don't move!" Faloe yelled. Everyone froze. Faloe took the remote and pocketed it. "What are you waiting for?!" cried Prettyman, "GET HIM!" The thugs charged them. Faloe fought off the attackers with ease. Prettyman rushed at Sammichan. She him really hard, and he decided to take cover under the console. Faloe and Sammichan took out attacker after attacker until the pitiful few that remained fled. Faloe took the remote out of one of his pockets. "I think we finally aced a mission," said Sammichan. Behind Sammichan, Ben got up; half of his face was scarred with the grid pattern from the metal bridge. Faloe's face fell. "What's wrong?" asked Sammichan, noticing his horrified expression. Ben hurtled himself toward Faloe, his mouth wide wide wide WIDE open in a very loud and obnoxious scream. There was no time to explain, Faloe kicked Sammichan's legs out from under her, keeping her from being tackled. Then he took the remote, and directed all the crickets into Ben's mouth. They hopped in. Ben fell back from the swarm of insects, clutching his stomach in pain. Sammichan got to her feet, realizing what Faloe had done. He covered her eyes, but she yanked his hands away. "I think I deserve to see this," she said. In a few seconds, Ben exploded. His remains oozed out from inside the hoody, leaving it nicely laid out. The sound of more men arriving met Faloe's ears. He whipped around, already on the offensive. Sammichan placed a hand on his shoulder. "They're only Striker and them," she said, reassuringly. The Gang arrived, decked out in their punk and gothic black things, machine guns, flamethrowers, throwing knives, ninja stars, dirks, and swords drawn. Mike ran up to Faloe, and punched in into the floor. "Are you okay?" he asked Sammichan. "Great going Mike," she replied, "you just punched the hero." "I've always wanted to do that!" he said, cheerfully. Faloe got up and punched him into Dew, who caught him. Dew dropped Mike and pulled Prettyman out from under the console. "Thank L-sama you're here!" he blubbered, "I tried to stop him but I'm just a little employee deally thing." "He's the annoying nerd behind all this," explained Sammichan. Dew got out some iron rings with chains and slapped them on Prettyman. Then dropped him in a garbage bag and hauled him off. Muffled protests could be heard coming from the bag. Striker walked up to Faloe and Sammichan. "Looks like we got here a little late," he said, sadly, "I really wanted to blow up people." "So you just came to take the credit?!" asked Sammichan. "Um, no, actually," said Striker. He turned to Faloe. "I'm Striker Infinity, head of the Gang. I spearheaded the operation that blew up Ben Whartmann. I'm guessing you're Faloe Xion." "Very good," said Faloe. He pointed to the floor, "There's your hoody, I hope you're happy." "We actually don't really need that," said Striker, "It was just a test. Turns out everyone can already do all the crap we inputed into that thing. We'll probably end up burning it." "I'll do that for you!" said Faloe, happily. "Sure, whatever," said Striker, "By the way, good job for your first mission," he said to Sammichan. "Faloe helped," she said. "Thanks!" said Faloe. Sammichan bore down on Striker, tried to anyways. Her 5' 2" was no match for his 6' 0". "You think you can just drop by and get away with a pat on the head, you procrastinating video-game guru freak-monkey? Sir?" Striker looked down at her glowering face. "Yep," he said. "Could you do something for me?" asked Faloe, "Besides fix this spider mode thing, the web coming out of my butt isn't very cool." "Shoot," said Striker.  
  
Chapter 18 Two vans blocked off the city plaza. They were armed to the wheels with all kinds of surveillance equipment. In the first van, Kitti sat before a panel of funny-looking controls. "We're at T-minus thirty and counting," she said, in a low voice. "Are all personnels in position?" "Affirmative," replied several voices. "Okie dokies! All ready!" said Kitti, happily. On a roof overlooking the plaza, David Metallium (the real one) was crouched over some high-tech listening stuff. "This better work," he said, "What's his current condition?" In the other van, Sammichan was sitting next to Faloe. She wore a headset. "He's, uh." she glanced at Faloe, who was meditating. "Meditating?" "No, I'm trying not to burst out laughing," he corrected her. "He's fine," said Sammichan, "It's new territory, but he's ready." "No I'm not!" he protested. "Are you ready?" she asked, ignoring his protests. "No," he replied. "Just.focus," she said, "C'mon you can do this." Kitti's voice came over the intercom. "HURRY UP YOU EVIL BUTTMUNCHING MONKEYEATERS! WHAT'S TAKING YOU SO LONG?!" "STOP YELLING!" Sammichan yelled back, then opened the van door and pushed Faloe out. "Go Faloe go!" Faloe walked down the street, keeping his eyes firmly glued on the building. His breathing came in irregular gasps. He tried hard to keep himself from exploding with laughter. He pressed his earpiece to his ear. "You hear me?" came Sammichan's voice. "Yep!" he replied. "Good luck, and stop smiling like that!" Faloe reached out and pushed through the glass doors. He was in the art gallery. He looked around, searching. "He's freezing," came David's voice. "He's fine," said Sammichan, reassuringly, "It's okay. Everybody stay calm." Then Faloe spotted her. The kawaii, genki, Carolynn. "Locked on target," said Sammichan. Faloe headed towards her, everything seemed to be going in slow-mo. John, the gallery owner, appeared. He went to cut off Faloe. "Hostile force closing in! Take him out! Violently!" ordered Kitti Instantly, Nate and Dew turned from pretending to look at a painting. Dew 'accidentally' tripped John and Nate 'accidentally' dropped a heavy metal sculpture on his head. They dragged him behind some sculptures. "Very good," said Kitti, happily. Faloe continued to walk towards Carolynn. He stopped when he reached her. Then his mind went blank. "What?" asked Carolynn. "Tell her everything is a secret!" said David, through the earpiece. "Just say konnichiwa," suggested Sammichan, "It doesn't have to be brilliant." "Uh." said Faloe, trying hard not to look at the spikey statue behind her. "Is there something you're looking for?" asked Carolynn. "STOP LOOKING AT THAT SCULPTURE!" ordered Sammichan. Faloe burst out laughing. "Dude! I can't THINK with you yelling in my ear!" he said. Carolynn backed away very quickly. "Not you! Her!" he explained, pointing at his head. Carolynn glanced down at his shirt, which read 'You don't want to know what the voices in my head call me.' "Byebye. Door's that way," she said, looking alarmed. "Great going Faloe," said Sammichan. "Now she not only thinks you're insane, she knows." "I'm not insane!" protested Faloe. Carolynn reached behind and her held up the spikey sculpture menacingly. "GET OUT!" she screamed. Faloe started laughing again. "Terminating mission!" said Kitti's voice through the earpiece. "About face and OUT THE DOOR!" Faloe yanked the earpiece out of his ear, threw it at John's unconscious body, and got out. Sammichan leapt out when he reached the van. "You tried," she said, "but you totally blew it this time." "It's hard," said Faloe. "What's so hard? You just say something like 'You want to go get a cup of coffee?'" "When I get around pretty girls I get a brainfreezy, okay?" he said. "Thanks a lot," said Sammichan. "Did I say something wrong?" he asked. "You can't tell how I feel?" she asked. "Sad?" "No." "Sick?" "Nope." "Constipated?" "NO! NOTHING!" she yelled. Faloe paused for a moment, thinking. "Oh! I know! You like me!" Sammichan sighed and shook her head, then banged it on the lamppost repeatedly, muttering about hopeless guys. "What's wrong?" asked Faloe. Sammichan took a deep breath. "Well, it's like.no guy would ever do something for me like what you did.tried to do.and failed sadly at." "Well, you're a bit too bossy and punch people too much," he said. "Yeah, thanks. Nice working with you too," she snapped. She stalked off towards the second van. It pulled away. She swore and kept walking. Faloe watched her walking. She walked some more. He watched some more. "You wanna go get a cup of coffee?" he called. She stopped and turned around. "Coffee?" she asked eagerly, "like mocha?" "Sure, whatever you want," he offered. "I LOVE mocha!" she said, "With lots and lots of extra chocolate!" "Me too!" he said, "Let's go!" He took her hand and they walked off to the nearest café 


End file.
